saints & sinners
by bumblebee jars
Summary: Remember the dead, my child, but fight for the living.
1. chapter i: our story begins

_**[A/N]**__ This story was beta'd by the marvelous Juliet and is one hundred percent complete. Let me know what you think! :)_

* * *

**saints & sinners  
****chapter i:  
**_(Our Story Begins)_

* * *

_This is the way the world ends__  
__Not with a bang but a whimper.__  
__T.S. Eliot_

* * *

Mist shrouds the trees towering above the hilltop. I clutch the parcel to my chest and stare up at the impressive gateway. Some would say I walk on holy ground. Some people spend their lives saving up to visit the place I live next to.

The time is six-forty-three in the morning. The sun is just beginning to lighten the sky. My breath comes out in short, visible puffs of air. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and walk inside the gate that reads "New Grace Cemetery" in gilt letters. The guard spots me and tips his hat, not making any move to stop me.

New Grace is closed on Sundays. But I am allowed to do this. I _need_ to do this.

I walk past the headstones and the statues until the path goes downhill and I find myself at the entrance of the underground tomb. I put my hand on the plaque and read, even though I already know all of the words by heart.

"Graves of the Daybreakers," I murmur, holding my package to my chest with my free hand. "For those who fought for light in a time of darkness." A list of names follows the words, along with the caution for no flash photography or food.

When I am done reading, I look up and enter the tomb. Fog clings to my legs as I walk past names. _Ash Redfern. Mary-Lynnette Carter. Blaise Harman. Thea Harman. __Raksha Keller. __Phillip North. Rashel Jordan._

I stop in front of one tomb: yours. The slit window at the end of the tunnel, as well as the memorial candles that burn twenty-four-seven, gives me plenty of light to read in. I smile at your name and sit down in front of your tomb.

"I finished," I say, unable to speak louder than a whisper. Respect for the dead, I suppose. It's always been in me. "And you're in it. It's time to tell the story."

The only response is the flickering of the candle flames. Unperturbed, I open the book and run my fingertip down the spine of the book. "_Saints and Sinners: an Account of the War and the Collapse of Circle Daybreak_," I say out loud.

And I begin to read.

* * *

_Our story begins on August 1, 2001, in a small town in the middle of Virginia. This town, once known as Harmony, is the birthplace of one of our many heroes._

_2001 is a busy year. That's when the War begins._

_But on August 1, the War is far from the minds of Harmony's inhabitants._

_Why?_

_Because one of our heroes is being born, of course._

* * *

The only sound in the silence was the _tick-tock_ of the clock. Galen Drache's eyes followed it like it held the balance of the world—which it didn't, but it was better than focusing on what was going on behind the door in front of them.

John Quinn sat next to him, his eyes on his soulmate Rashel, who was pacing the hallway like a caged animal. Rosamund Ross was sitting on the floor across from them, right next to the door, her sketchbook open and her pencil ready. She drew Galen and Quinn, her pencil scraping against the paper.

The quaint stillness was broken when the person behind the door gathered a breath and screamed again. Everyone visibly winced at the noise, most notably Rashel and Galen.

The scream only lasted a few short seconds. "I'm sure she'll be fine," said Rosamund the moment it was over. Galen's face was taut and pale. "Besides, Vivienne said she'd be all right."

"Only if Aradia did her Maiden magic on her," growled Rashel from down the hall. "I'm tired of waiting for her. If she doesn't show up within the next five minutes, I'm hunting her down."

As if on cue, the elevator doors down the hall _pinged_, and a lithe shape stepped out into the hall. Aradia Crowley wasted no time reaching the small group of four. "Where were you?" asked Quinn.

Aradia didn't answer. The door to the delivery room opened, and Vivienne Morrigan stepped out. Blood caked her wrists, and her white coat was stained. Her scarlet hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she seemed perfectly okay with staring at the marble floor instead of the gathered group.

Galen leapt to his feet. "How is she?" he asked, the words barely a whisper.

"She's lost a lot of blood. The good thing is, Keller is out cold, so she won't be able to feel anything. They're doing an emergency Cesarean section now, because, well . . . your baby is twisted up in the umbilical cord. It might choke."

"_What?_" said Aradia sharply. She pushed past Vivienne and went inside, and the witch quickly followed. All eyes turned to Galen when the door slammed shut.

"Oh, God," he whispered, and slowly sank back down into the seat. "This is all my fault."

Rosamund slammed her sketchbook on the ground. "You can't believe that," she said, her tone acerbic.

Rashel leant against the polished white walls and crossed her arms, glaring at the shapeshifter prince. "No one knew that Keller would pull an oblique when she was stretching, Galen. No one knew that the baby would be born prematurely."

"It's been eight months," argued Rosamund. "Not _that_ premature."

"It was still my idea to get her outside so she could run." He looked miserable. "And now I might lose them both."

No one replied to that. Galen and Rashel went back to watching the clock. Rosamund flipped open her sketchbook and resumed working on one of her in-depth portraits of Keller. The hospital was filled with the _tick-tock_s of the clock once more.

It was the stillness that did it.

Someone inside the room gasped. Everyone in the hallway heard it. Rosamund stiffened, Galen looked up, Rashel and Quinn stared at the door.

In the following silence, there was a series of small, choking coughs. Then the hospital was filled with the unmistakable wails of an infant.

Before Rosamund could react, Galen was inside the room, Quinn and Rashel right behind him. Rosamund was left sitting on the floor, her sketchbook and pencil in hand, still absorbing what had just happened.

She tossed the pencil and the sketchbook onto the floor and scrambled to her feet, almost tripping in her haste to get inside the room.

The delivery room was big and filled with all sorts of beeping equipment. Aradia was holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, singing softly to her. The other witches were crowded around Keller. The baby was silent, staring up at Aradia with wide green-gold eyes. Galen was at her side in an instant. Aradia held the child out and said, "Your daughter, Prince."

Galen took the baby like she was an ancient treasure that would break at the slightest force. Rosamund, Rashel and Quinn gathered around her.

"She's so _pretty_," cooed Rosamund. The baby stuck her fingers in her mouth, tears forming in her eyes. A small pink cap was on her head.

"Looks just like her mom," said Galen, beaming.

Aradia smiled. "What are you going to name her?"

Before Galen could answer, one of the witches announced, "Got it!" She stepped away from Keller and grinned. "We've sped up the healing process. The anesthetic should wear off any minute now."

They moved away to the chair, and Vivienne gestured to an empty chair at Keller's bedside. "Prince, sit there."

Galen sat. Rashel sat on one edge of Keller's bed, Rosamund sat on the other. Aradia inched her way across the wall until she bumped into Galen's chair; then she slid to the ground and crossed her legs, a serene smile on her face. Quinn leaned against the wall on the other side of the bed.

In a few agonizingly long minutes, Keller began to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open, then immediately closed. She turned her head to rest it on her shoulder, and her hands fisted the bedsheet.

Then she whispered, "Ow."

Everyone relaxed. "How're you feeling?" whispered Rashel. Keller's eyes fluttered into slits.

"Like hell. What happened?"

"You had to have a c-section," explained Vivienne. She and the other witches were watching in a corner of the room. "You'd lost too much blood, and your baby was endangered."

This woke Keller up. Her eyes widened and she sat up, looking around. "Endangered? How?"

Galen grabbed her hand, getting her attention. "_She's_ all right," he teased. Keller had been convinced she was going to have a boy. "She's tough, just like her mom."

Keller slowly looked down at the baby, who was gaping at her. A single, blue-tinted hand poked through the folds of the soft pink blanket. "She," she repeated, slowly taking her from Galen. She held the baby to her breast and stared down at it, her gray eyes wide. "She's beautiful."

Rosamund saw an opportunity and ran out of the room. When she came back, she was holding her sketchbook. She sat back down on the bed and began to draw Keller and her baby.

"What are you going to name her?" asked Rashel, scooting closer to get a better look. Keller handed her to Rashel, who cradled the baby to her chest.

"I think . . . we agreed on Ariel, after Galen's mother. Right?" When Galen nodded, she continued on. "Ariel Lynnette Drache."

Ariel Lynnette Drache gurgled and stuck her wrinkled red fingers in her mouth. Rashel held her closer and smiled. Then the hairs on her neck stood up, and she looked up to see Quinn watching her. His expression was so intense she had to look away.

_What?_ she thought, handing Ariel back to Keller.

_Nothing. You'd just make a great mother, is all._ He gave her a half-smile that shed rainbows. Rashel shook her head slightly, unable to stop her frown.

_No. I'm a fighter. We're in the middle of a war. They'd grow up in a terrible world, John. I don't want that._

_They did._ He nodded to Keller, who was whispering to Galen. _And Keller's one of the toughest people I know, as strong as you are._

_And if the dragons came? If they used us against each other? What then, Quinn?_

He didn't answer. _That's what I thought._ Rashel looked away and met Aradia's vacant gaze. Her brown eyes rolled to the ceiling a moment later, but Rashel still felt like the Maiden had been staring at her.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Aradia said. The whole room's attention was on her in a moment. The witch used the wall to get to her feet and began to address the room. "But, as the witches know, more members of the Inner Circle—Belfana and Ursula—were killed last night. Now it's just me, Rhys, and Mother Cybele. It's not safe for me anymore. I'm leaving."

"Where will you go?" asked Rashel.

Aradia shook her head. "I can't tell you. If Maya gets a hold of any of you, she'll know. I can't risk that. I'm leaving tonight."

Rosamund dropped her sketchbook on the bed and sprung up, giving the witch a bearhug. "I'll miss you," she said. Aradia put her hand on the girl's shoulder and squeezed. Roz looked up at her and said, "Will we be able to contact you?"

Aradia smiled. "I sometimes forget you're still just a teenager," she said. Rosamund pulled away and shrugged. She didn't miss that the witch hadn't answered.

"I sometimes forget that, too," she admitted. Tears pricked her eyes. Aradia had been a mother figure to her when her own mother had been killed. She wanted to give her another hug, but she held herself back. Instead, she forced a smile and said, "Goodbye."

"Stay safe," said Galen, his eyes warm. "The shapeshifters are in your debt."

Aradia dipped her head in acknowledgement, putting her hand on one of the white-brick walls. She backed up to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob. "Thank you, Galen." She braved a smile. "I consider you all my friends. I'll miss you all."

She opened the door and slipped out.

* * *

_Aradia leaves that night. With one exception, she will not be seen again for fifteen years. Many witches follow Aradia's example and leave Harmony, Virginia. Soon there are only seven inhabitants: Ariel, Keller, Galen, Rosamund, Rashel, Quinn, and Vivienne._

_It is mid-winter, 2001, when Harmony suffers its fourth consecutive attack. The War is in full swing then, and the fighting is fiercest in December._

* * *

A lone candle flickered in the darkness as Rosamund watched the outside world light up with orange fire. She clenched her fists, wishing desperately that she was something other than human.

She wanted to be a badass vampire, like Quinn. Or a witch that could summon fire, like Vivienne. Or, better yet, a giant, lethal cat that could crush you with one bite, like Keller and Galen.

But no. She was stuck as a regular human, and thus, on babysitting duty.

For her part, Ariel was sound asleep. Either the fight that was going on outside didn't bother her, or she was such a heavy sleeper she couldn't hear it.

The basement shook once more, and she could hear a loud bass laugh outside. Keller's answering scream made the window panes rattle. Ariel made a noise and kicked something in her sleep, making Rosamund smile.

The pencil scratched across the page in the silence as Rosamund put the finishing touches on the baby's portrait. _Ariel_, she wrote in the corner, _Dec. '01. By Roz._

She ripped the page out of the sketchbook and grabbed her scrapbook, gently placing the baby's portrait in the same page that held a picture of Keller and Galen, pre-baby. She looked at Ariel and whispered, "One day, I'll give this to you."

She shut the photo album and sat in silence, listening to the thunder—or was that the dragon?—and the rain.

Time passed. Ariel's eyelids fluttered and she coughed in her sleep, her face turning red and screwing up. Rosamund scooted closer to and started rocking the baby's cradle.

It was an hour before she realized that it was too quiet. Her window hadn't turned orange in—quite a while. The only sound was her breathing.

Where was Keller? Vivienne? Galen? Rashel? Quinn?

She turned around and ran up the stairs, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. "Hello?" she whispered, throwing the door open. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the laundry room. Roz screamed and immediately started fighting.

"Shut up," Vivienne hissed in her ear. Roz stopped thrashing and grew still. "We drove it back. It retreated. Keller and Galen are covering our tracks now."

She let go of Roz and stepped back. Roz turned around and found that Vivienne was soaked—in rain, sweat, and blood. She was too scared to ask if it was hers or not. "Where are Rashel and Quinn?" she whispered.

Almost as if on cue, the door opened, and Quinn stepped through, holding a half-conscious Rashel in his arms. He shut the door with his foot and brushed past them, heading into the living room. Vivienne ignored Roz and followed him. Curiosity drove Roz to trail after Quinn into the living room, staying out of sight and downwind.

Rashel was spread out on the couch. "I'm fine," she murmured, her voice drowsy.

"Like hell you are," snarled Quinn. There was a ripping sound—her shirt, maybe? "What the hell were you thinking, charging the dragon like that? You're lucky it didn't incinerate you!"

"Keller—_God_—Keller was distracting it. I had—open shot—"

"No. Rashel, look at me. Keep your eyes open." Quinn's voice was panicked, desperate almost. More ripping sounds. "Vivienne's getting something for your ribs. Damn it—_look at me_!"

Vivienne brushed past her carrying a handful of complicated surgical-looking items, and Roz felt her knees give out. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. _I was so stupid_, she thought, recalling her childhood. She'd been such a warrior, then. Always ready to pick a fight.

_Well, Roz, you got your war. How do you like it now?_

Rashel gasped and started screaming. It sounded like Vivienne was performing open surgery on her or something. In any case, it hurt Roz's ears—made her want to run away, run _far_ away and hide for a very, very long time.

Feeling bile rise in her throat, Roz pushed herself to her feet and sprinted toward the basement—toward the peace she'd been feeling with Ariel—leaving Rashel and the pain and the War all behind her.

_How do you like it now?_

* * *

Rosamund heard the footsteps before she saw the person and wiped her face quickly, pretending to focus on her sketchbook. But she couldn't be inspired to draw anything, not even the ceiling.

Someone knelt beside her. "It's okay for you to cry," said Keller.

Roz started. "I wasn't—"

"I can smell your tears. I know. Did you see Rashel?"

Roz nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Fifteen," sighed Keller. "You're so young. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Roz blinked rapidly and stared at the still-sleeping Ariel. "Rashel—is she—"

"No. Vivienne got the poison out. But she almost did." Keller frowned. "It was too close. It's too dangerous for you here. You're not a fighter."

"Rashel's trained me," began Roz, but Keller shook her head, cutting her off.

"Training isn't enough. You don't have the experience my sister does. And I know you're going to Eric's place soon. I want you to take care of Ariel . . . if it's not too much trouble."

Roz started. "A baby? But . . . I don't know how. I'm not _ready_."

Keller smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "We have a week. I'll teach you the basics. But Ariel will be safer at Eric's place than here in Harmony. Every time we fight Maya's forces, we endanger you both. Will you do it?"

Roz looked at Ariel and thought. "I don't know if Eric will allow it," she said finally.

"Eric loves kids," replied Keller. She sounded confused, as if the notion that Eric might not want Ariel in his house had just occurred to her. "Doesn't he?"

Roz glanced at the still-open scrapbook, which contained the portrait of Ariel and Keller and Galen's picture. Maybe she could draw sketches of Ariel growing up and send it to them. And then, when the war was over . . .

_How do you like it now?_

"All right," she said. "Let's do it."

* * *

_Rosamund Ross leaves for her brother Eric's place a week later, equipped with the barest knowledge of bottle-feeding, diaper-changing, bathing, and other information one must have when they have to take care of an infant._

_Now, Eric lives in what they called a "zone." It is basically what we call the suburbs today: better than the ghettos, but every aspect is controlled by the Night People._

_Bellevue, Nebraska, is a small town of three thousand people, both Night People and humans. Eric has wild prairie grass as his backyard. Bellevue has two schools, two train stations, two sprawling living quarters, and one luxurious section of the zone reserved just for the Night People. It's often a stop for trains going to more important places, like Eris or Denver or Los Angeles._

* * *

"Papers," said the werewolf, walking down the aisle. Rosamund fished out her passport and smiled when he came to her. "Papers?"

She offered him her fake passport. She was currently roving as Bunny Marten. She had no idea who _she_ was, or if she was still alive, but she did know that one of the Daybreakers had had a friend named Bunny Marten.

The werewolf glanced over at her papers and nodded at Ariel. "Who's your kid?"

Rosamund forced her smile to widen. She'd practiced this over the train ride. The train had stopped, and now they were checking the papers of everyone who were going to enter Bellevue. She was just a few feet away from Eric. "She's mine."

He glanced at her forged papers again. "There's nothing about her in here."

"My passport is about _me_, isn't it?" she asked. The werewolf shuffled through until he reached Ariel's fake birth certificate. She had the real one in her sketchbook. Finally, after an agonizingly long moment, he handed them back to her and moved on to the next passenger.

Yes! She was free!

Rosamund stood up quickly and gathered her things, picking up Ariel's carrier and practically running out of the train's carriage. The train station was mainly deserted, but there was a lone figure sitting on one of the old benches.

She approached the figure quietly, not daring to call out his name. Eric Ross looked up at the sound of her footsteps and met her gaze. His face lit up in a smile that couldn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, sis," he said, standing up. He looked at the baby carrier and raised a blond eyebrow. "You been busy in Harmony or something?"

Rosamund didn't laugh. "I'll explain when we're alone," she said, glancing around. "I'm Bunny Marten here."

Eric's face cleared. "Right. Okay." He took the baby carrier from her and glanced inside. Ariel cooed up at him, her green-gold eyes wide. She tossed her head and stuck her hand in her mouth, her other hand grabbing a blue sleeper-clad foot. Eric's expression softened, and he smiled at Roz. "The car's across the street. Let's go."

* * *

When they were alone in their house, Ariel started crying. Rosamund picked her up and grabbed one of her bottles. As she was feeding her, she said, "Eric, this is Ariel. She's Keller and Galen's daughter."

Eric sat down and stared at the baby, curious. "Really, huh? I can see the resemblance . . . kind of."

Rosamund looked up and gave him an apologetic smile. "I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries with this. I thought you wouldn't mind."

Eric shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. She's cute."

Rosamund smiled. "Thanks. I knew you'd understand."

Eric smiled and looked down at something in his hand. Rosamund saw a glint of gold as she turned to put Ariel back in her carrier, but she didn't comment on it.

* * *

_December 24, 2002. Rosamund is sixteen, Eric twenty-two, and both are about to get the Christmas present of their lives._

* * *

The 'wolves came for them on Christmas Eve. (Not that anyone celebrated that holiday anymore.)

It was nighttime, two o'clock in the afternoon, and the lights seemed to glow in the darkness. The peace of the snow-covered zone was disrupted by the screeching squeal of tires.

Rosamund was feeding Ariel when someone knocked on the door. She started at the unexpected noise and almost knocked over the applesauce she'd been feeding the toddler. "Oh, shit," she hissed. Ariel giggled.

"Shit," she repeated. Roz jumped to her feet and pointed at Ariel, glaring.

"Bad! No!"

Ariel gurgled and smashed applesauce between her palms, completely ignoring her. Eric was suddenly at her side with a washrag in hand. "I've got her," he said, bending down to clean the child up. "You take care of whoever's at the door."

The person knocked again. Roz quickly went to the front door and opened it a crack. Two werewolves, their belladonna tattoos writhing on their left wrists, were standing on the porch, leering.

"Took you long enough," one said.

"I was in the bathroom," she replied, stepping out into the cold. "What do you want?"

The other grinned and held out his jacket lapel, withdrawing two envelopes from them. They both had a scarlet seal containing a Mardi Gras mask and a belladonna. Roz felt her heart jump into her throat at the sight.

Maya's official seal. This was bad. This was _really_ bad.

She took the envelopes slowly, not missing how her hands were shaking. The werewolves noticed her fear, too. The one who hadn't given her the letters chuckled and crossed his arms. "Don't worry, darlin'. You're going to the Salt Lake ghetto." He winked. "I'll be there, too. We can have some fun."

Roz was starting to freeze. "I'll pass," she said, stepping back. "Goodbye."

She slammed the door in their faces and went back to the kitchen, shocked. Ariel was gnawing on a wooden spoon on the countertop, and Eric was watching her with an amused smile. When he saw his sister's face, though, his smile faded and he straightened. "What's wrong?"

She handed him the letter, too frightened to open it herself. He opened it for her and read the following:

_Dear Miss Bunny Marten: _

_As of a decision made November 24, 2002, you are hereby to be relocated to the Salt Lake City ghetto. You are only allowed to pack two suitcases and one carry-on with your things. _

_A group of Night People will come on January 15, 2003 to ensure that your move will be as smooth and as safe as possible. Failure to obey this relocation order will result in severe consequences. _

_Thank you for your future cooperation. _

_Signed, _

_Queen Maya_

He'd sat back down by the time he finished. Ariel giggled from the countertop and tried to choke herself with the wooden spoon. Roz took it away from her and picked her up, carrying her to the living room and putting her in her playpen. Ariel immediately started smashing a plushie lion against the carpet, and Roz returned to the kitchen.

Eric was reading his relocation letter. "Well?" she asked, sliding into the seat next to him.

"I'm going to Washington," he said, his face blank.

Roz watched the snow fall, lit up by the lamp outside. All ghettos were bad, but Washington—and the other former major cities of the world—were the worst. And Eric had barely made it on his own without her, here in the zone—what would happen if he got to Washington?

And Ariel. Damn. She couldn't bring her into a place like that. What was going to happen to her?

Eric voiced her thoughts exactly. "What's going to happen to Ariel? Are you going to give her to someone?"

Rosamund shook her head. "I don't know. There's no one alive that would be able to take her on, except—"

Aradia.

_She_ was alive, Roz knew it. She was alive and she was somewhere _safe_.

And she'd never said that they wouldn't be able to contact her. Roz abruptly stood up, sending the chair squeaking across the tiled floor. "Aradia!" she gasped.

Eric frowned. "The Maiden? Isn't she dead?"

"No. She's not. I think." Roz smiled and began to laugh, a bit hysterically. "She's safe. Somewhere. She could've told us where she went, but she didn't and now I'm getting sent to the goddamn ghettos." She laughed again and shook her head. "Whatever. _She_ can take Ariel."

"How can we ask her to take on Ariel?"

"I don't know." Wait. Her scrapbook. She'd seen Aradia going through it the day before Keller gave birth to Ariel, right? Maybe she'd left a secret message for her.

Roz all but ran to her bedroom. She pulled her scrapbook and her sketchbook out from underneath her bed, dusting it off and flipping through the pages. She hadn't drawn since she was sixteen.

Eric came back hours later, to find her leaning against the bed, doing nothing. "Ariel's asleep," he said. "Any luck?"

Roz was staring at the last page of the scrapbook in silence. She slowly shook her head. She'd searched every page of both books so carefully, and there was nothing. She really wouldn't be able to contact Aradia. Ariel would probably die in the ghettos. "It's hopeless," she said, her voice flat. "I'll have to take Ariel with me."

"Right," said Eric. "I'm going to go take a nap now."

Roz turned on him, ready to rage that he wasn't taking any of their futures seriously—when she saw his expression. His eyes were bright, the kind of look he only got when he was talking about Thea, but his jaw was also set with determination.

Realization set in slowly. "Do you dream about her, Eric?"

He lost the 'starry-eyed soulmate' look. "What?"

Rosamund sat back on her haunches, pity welling up inside her. A dusty ring and a broken heart, those were his memories of Thea. "Eric, you know I love you. But you have to get over her. She's _gone_, Eric. Dreams can't change that," she whispered.

Eric's expression hardened. "Gee, Roz. Thanks for reminding me. I was afraid I'd forgotten." His hand, which had been leaning against the doorframe as he propped himself against one arm, clenched into a fist, and he pushed off, leaving for his room.

Rosamund almost got up and followed after him. But she didn't. Instead, she looked at her clue-less books, feeling helpless.

Finally, she told the silence, "Life blows."

* * *

It was Christmas morning.

Rosamund was helping Ariel tear open gifts. They didn't really get much from Eric's zoology teaching position, and she worked at the local McDonald's, so they couldn't really afford luxurious gifts.

But they managed. If Ariel liked her cheap stuffed animals from Goodwill, that was enough for Roz.

At nine o'clock, Eric padded in, still half-asleep. He held a piece of paper in his hand and gave it to Roz when he plopped down beside her. "Merry Christmas," he said, slumping against her shoulder.

Roz gave him a wary glance and unfolded the paper. A number was on it. "What's this, Eric?"

"Aradia's number," he replied.

Roz froze. "What? How do you know?"

"Thea gave it to me." He lifted his head slightly to glare at her. "But it might not be real, so you might want to try it first."

Roz flushed. "I will."

He shrugged and lay back down on the carpet, allowing Ariel to crawl over him. God, what was it with men and sleeping until noon whenever they could? Rosamund smiled and patted his stomach before getting up to dial the number.

The person on the other end picked up after three rings. "Hello, Rosamund," said Aradia Crowley. A very _alive_ Aradia Crowley.

Rosamund dropped the phone.

_Ho_-ly crap.

Eric had been telling the truth!

She scrambled to pick it up and demanded, "You're _alive_?"

"Yes."

"And you're safe?"

"For now. Why are you calling me?"

Roz bit her lip and started winding the cord around her finger. God, this was awkward. She'd thought this was a fake number or something! How had Eric gotten it? "Well. I didn't know you had a phone."

Aradia waited.

"I found out I was getting sent to the Salt Lake ghetto yesterday," she admitted.

"Ouch. Merry Christmas?"

"That's what _I_ thought! Yeah. But they're serious. I leave in a few weeks. But I have a problem. I have Ariel with me. If we have shapeshifters escorting us, they'll know who she is. They'll probably kill her."

Aradia caught on immediately. "I'll take care of her. I'm in a remote location. Where are you?"

"Zone Bellevue. In Nebraska. You might want to put a glamour on yourself, if you can. Your face is plastered all over the country. Maya's still looking for you."

"I know." Aradia's tone turned icy. "I'll be there in a few days. I'll call you again when I'm here."

And she hung up. Roz's feet felt like jelly. She plopped into a chair and sighed, prompting Eric to come in, holding Ariel. The toddler stopped laughing at her expression. "Uh-oh," she said, sticking a finger in her mouth. Eric's expression was solemn.

"What'd she say?"

Roz stood up and launched herself into his arms, not caring that he was carrying Ariel in one arm. He staggered back under her weight and wrapped his free arm around her to balance himself. Ariel shrieked and laughed at his expression. "I'm sorry," Rosamund said into his shirt. She pulled back and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you yesterday. It was out of line."

Eric pressed his lips together. "Did Aradia say yes?" he asked.

With a sinking feeling in her chest, Roz nodded. He forced a smile. "Great. When?"

"In a few days."

Eric didn't get a chance to say anything else, because Ariel slapped his shoulder and said, "I wanna pway, Eric. Monster!"

"You want to play Monster?"

Ariel giggled and nodded, her dark curls flying around her face, her green-gold eyes bright. Eric went into the living room with her, and Rosamund sat back down.

_I did something great_, she thought, looking at her hands, _so why do I feel so terrible?_

* * *

Two days later, she got a phone call at five o'clock at night. Eric went to answer, and she wrapped another blanket around a sleeping Ariel. _God bless her sleeping patterns_, she thought, putting a little cap on her head to keep it warm. It was snowing outside, and the temperature was practically subzero.

She made a mental list of everything. Diapers? Check. Bottles? Check. Favorite toys? Check.

"She says she's in the Greyson Prairie," called Eric from the kitchen, just a minute later. Roz bit her lip and glanced at the night outside.

"I'm forgetting something," she muttered. Not food, not diapers, not extra clothes . . . what was it? Damn it, why couldn't she remember?

Eric materialized in the living room. "We need to go," he said. "Werewolves will start patrolling in thirty minutes."

"I know," snapped Rosamund. _I'm just being paranoid_, she told herself, picking up the sleeping toddler. Eric slung Ariel's supply bag over his shoulder and opened the garage door for them.

They reached the prairie in five minutes. Eric handed her the bag, and she darted out of the car. "Aradia?" she hissed when she could no longer see Eric's headlights. Stalks of tall grass brushed against her elbows, leaving wet snow in their tracks. Ariel shivered and yawned. Roz clutched her tighter to her chest.

_If you cry_, she thought to her, _we're all dead._

After her fourth _Aradia_, someone finally said, "Roz? That's you?"

"Yes," she breathed, seeing her breath mist in the cold. Her fingers were starting to go numb. "I'm here."

A small flame blossomed in the dark, revealing a girl with shoulder-length brown hair, hundreds of freckles, and bright green eyes. At first, Roz wasn't really sure that it really was Aradia. But then the girl's green eyes rolled around lazily, and her doubts ended there. "Where are you?" she asked, reaching out in front of her, grasping stalks of grass. Roz stepped forward and grabbed her hand.

"Here. Here's Ariel." Aradia took the baby and hugged her to her chest. "I have a bag, too."

Two minutes later, they were ready. "You sure you've got it?" asked Roz, taking a step back. Aradia nodded and adjusted her grip on the toddler.

"Yes." She stiffened, glanced far off into the distance. "The 'wolves are starting their patrol at the library. If you don't want to get caught, go now!"

"It was good to see you again," whispered Roz. She wasn't sure Aradia had heard it, but there wasn't time. The library was too close to the Greyson Prairie. She turned around and sprinted back to the car.

Back at the prairie, the glamour faded and Aradia softly smiled after her charge. "And you, my friend."

She glanced up at the moon. "Hecate, protect us tonight," she murmured, and turned to leave for her hideout.

Roz slammed the door and leaned against the seat, breathless. Eric turned the car around and peeled out of the parking lot. "How'd it go?" he asked her.

"Fine," she breathed, taking a deep breath to steady her heartbeat. She half-expected howling to start up. "I gave Aradia every—oh. Oh, _shit_."

_Everything,_ she'd almost said.

Everything except the scrapbook.


	2. chapter ii: the queen of ice

**saints & sinners  
****chapter ii:  
**_(The Queen of Ice)_

* * *

_Rosamund's chapter of this story is closed, dear readers. For now. Currently, we focus on a quite different character, who is, at this time in 2002, touring Virginia and Florida, looking for one very specific vampire._

* * *

Maya pinched her nose shut and closed her eyes. "John Quinn is not here," she muttered to the two men standing beside her. The werewolves glanced at each other and stared down at their belladonna tattoos, which were writhing across their skin silently. Maya lifted her head and glared at them with jewel yellow eyes. "Where is John Quinn?"

"He—he was moved to the warehouse in Florida," said one. Maya clenched her jaw and drummed her fingers against her arm.

She was _not_ in the mood for this. She had chased Blaise Harman and Ash Redfern all across the country to get them to join her, only for them to commit suicide right in front of her. She'd been _so_ close, and they had slipped right through her fingers.

John Quinn had been the only reason she'd sent Meraux and Belinda to destroy Harmony. Killing Raksha Keller, Galen Drache, Vivienne Morrigan and Rashel Jordan had simply been a bonus. But if John Quinn had escaped, it was all for nothing.

"And who authorized this?" she gritted out.

"Uh, Belinda did, my Queen," said the other.

Belinda. That _snake_. Meraux had asked her to wake her up, something that Maya had stupidly done. Belinda had been Meraux's Dragonqueen, making her the second most powerful of the species. And she was always trying to humiliate Maya whenever she could. This was just another event on a long list of transgressions.

Maya was seriously reconsidering putting the Dragonqueen back to sleep.

"Belinda does not overrule my orders," she said, managing to unclench her jaw and plaster on a fake, easygoing smile. The werewolves began to relax, until she said, "You're going to take me to him. And if you don't know where he is, you will become useless to me. Do you know what I _do_ to things that are useless to me?"

The werewolves gulped, exchanged a glance, and nodded. "We'll take you to him, my Queen," one said.

Maya narrowed her sky-blue eyes. "Good," she said, still smiling. "Go back to the car and wait for me."

They turned from Harmony's clearing and shuffled back to the limo. Maya stayed behind to obverse the damage, then swung the backpack she had slung over her shoulder around and put it on the ground. She knelt down and started rummaging through Ash Redfern's backpack. He'd abandoned it about two miles from here.

She finally pulled out a camera and smiled, standing up. The first pictures she took were of Blaise and Ash. Their arms brushed each other, even in death, making her smile. _They had a twisted kind of love._

Maya wandered over to one of the two uprooted trees and shook her head. Raksha Keller, in her panther form, was draped across the trunk, and Prince Galen could be seen underneath the roots. She took pictures of those two, then glanced at a charred corpse she didn't recognize. The body had red hair, though, so it was probably the corpse of Vivienne Morrigan. She snapped a picture of the dead witch as well.

But she really hit the jackpot when she found a girl pinned underneath a fallen tree. The branch had pierced her stomach, and the dead grass around her was scarlet. Her hair was splayed across her face. Maya crouched down and brushed away her hair, pulling out her dog tags.

Rashel Jordan. She almost laughed. She'd found _Rashel Jordan_.

She raised the camera and took a picture of Rashel's lifeless face. "I only wanted widdle Johnny," she murmured to the body. "Now you, Vivvie, Kelly and Galen are all dead! Your Wild Powers are being hunted down now. One of them is already dead!" She felt her lips curl up into a smile as she stood back up, taking more pictures of the smoking remains of the once-great city. "Fools," she whispered under her breath. "You should have never opposed me."

She took one last picture, spared another lingering look at the ruins of Harmony, and turned to head back to the white limo. As soon as she was in the car, the limo sped off, and Maya settled back into her seat to watch the sun set at noon.

The first sign of the apocalypse had not been Maya's destruction of San Fransisco—it had been May's Great Earthquake of 2002. It had been of a magnitude so great it had shifted the earth's axis so that half the planet was always shrouded in darkness, and the other part was as hot as the desert, even during the night time.

The humans took the almost-eternal night as a sign that Daybreak would lose—and from that day forth, it didn't take very long for Maya to start winning the War. The world would end in blood and darkness, indeed. Maya's lips curved up into a smile at the very thought.

The drive to Florida was a long one. The werewolves had managed to figure out the location of John Quinn's warehouse in advance, which, Maya had to admit, had been uncharacteristically smart of them.

Belinda was waiting for them when the limo finally pulled up in the street. This place had been an abandoned zone; it was now used as a Night district. Maya stepped out and pulled herself up to her full height. Belinda was an inch taller than her, and she didn't like it one bit. That was why she tended to wear heels around the dragoness.

"You disobeyed me," she said, raising her head and walking toward her.

Belinda looked like a goddess—an Egyptian goddess, with wavy dark hair spilling past her shoulders, wide brown eyes, and skin the color of caramel. She was almost as beautiful as Maya herself, and she made sure to flaunt it just as much as Maya did.

The dragoness raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and shrugged. "Did I? John Quinn doesn't know Florida like he knows Harmony. He could have easily escaped. I was doing you a favor."

Maya narrowed her eyes. "I had it under control."

Belinda smirked. "I'm _sure_ you did. I brought all your supplies here, don't worry." She made a vague gesture to the run-down house behind her. "He's in the basement."

"I want you to go back to Miami," said Maya, her voice no louder than a whisper. Belinda stiffened and her hands clenched into fists. Dragons had to obey the one who woke them up. Hecate Witch-Queen had included that as a last-minute addition. Maya knew about it because she'd been the one to come up with it. "Go back to Miami, little dragoness, and don't meddle in my affairs again."

Belinda stiffly lowered her head, her brown eyes filled with hatred. She was a roaming spirit, that one. But Maya didn't mind. She had the dragonkind under her thumb, and she was about to get one of the best vampires in her pocket as well.

"As you wish . . . my Queen," the Dragonqueen spat, brushing past her roughly and walking away. Maya smirked to herself and headed into the Night Person's house.

The basement was unfinished; it had a concrete floor and exposed walls. There was a single light bulb hanging above the door. Maya reached up and pulled on the chain. Garish yellow light lit up the room, revealing the lone figure sitting in the darkness.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. John Quinn sat against the wall, wooden handcuffs restricting his hands and feet. He looked up and snarled, sounding like a mountain lion.

"_Where is she?"_

"Who?" Quinn's lip curled further, exposing his fangs, and comprehension dawned. A slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, you mean _Rashel_."

"What did you do to her?" he asked, dangerously quiet. Maya glanced around the room and was pleased to see that there was a table pushed up against the opposite wall. It had her bags of herbs and her Cup, which was frothing blue mist at the brim.

"I didn't do anything," she said, cheerful. He was angry. Good. Anger helped for this. She glanced into the frothing chalice and dipped a finger in. It was lukewarm. It needed to be cold. Maybe if she added a pinch of oregano . . . "Was I there when Harmony was ruined?" she asked. After a moment of silence, she added, "Besides, I think you know the answer to that."

Quinn sucked in a breath, confirming her theory. "You ordered it," he said, voice flat. She glanced over her shoulder to see him staring at the ground in shock and something like . . . acceptance. Like what Thierry looked like after she'd just killed that twit of a human.

_Don't think about him_, a voice hissed. _He's gone, and so is she. Forever. You made sure of that._

Nevertheless, it did not bode well with her. "Yes," she said. "Well, Meraux and Belinda did a terrific job. I couldn't even recognize the place when I got there." She laughed a little. "I found Rashel pinned under a tree."

"I know how she died," he gritted out. Maya put her finger in the Cup again and smiled. Icy to the touch. Perfect. When she turned around, she saw that his jeans were stained with blood, as if he'd been kneeling in it.

Well . . . come to think of it, there _had _been indents in the grass around Rashel's body.

Maya pursed her lips as she considered the possibilities. "Did you watch her die?"

Quinn's black eyes turned flat, and his jaw clenched. He obviously wasn't going to answer her, but she knew anyway. He'd probably held her as she died. Which was even more reason to give him the Cup.

Maya turned back to the table and picked up the Cup. Quinn's eyes widened, and he jerked back, as if to get away from it. But he was trapped, and Maya stepped closer. "If you think I will _ever_—" he began. Maya flicked her wrist with her free hand, and Quinn slumped against the wall, unconscious.

She slowly righted his head and tilted it back, opening his mouth. Then she pinched his nose shut and started pouring her own Cup of Lethe down his throat.

She slipped into his mind as she was doing this and looked around. His mind was a pretty place—clear, bright, colored a cheerful shade of gray, like a winter's morning.

Pity she'd have to ruin it.

_Erase your memories of Rashel Jordan and Circle Daybreak. She no longer exists_, she thought. _You are John Quinn, whose father murdered your only love, Dove. You are John Quinn, the most fearless vampire and most notorious vermin-hater in the Night World. The soulmate principle is utter fallacy. Humans are worthless. Rashel Jordan never existed._

Blackish-brown thorns poked out of the ground around her. Maya smiled and continued on.

_Circle_ _Daybreak is full of pathetic weaklings_, she told him. Clusters of thorns next to her shot up to the sky, choking out the light. _Witches are vermin-lovers. They are not worthy of being a part of the Night World. The only true people of the Night World are the vampires. You have supported the vampires ever since you found out the Apocalypse was going to happen._

She showed him images of her rule: vampires with slaves, surrounded by blood; humans being crowded into ghettos, scared and miserable, as was due to them; humans being raised as breeding stock for dragons in her specially-built Houses. Fog began to creep into his mind, hiding the ground from view.

She showed him vampire hunters pulling vampires apart limb from limb and added, _Your Queen is Maya, and you would give your life for her._

She steadily poured more of the Cup down his throat. _You were ambushed by vampire hunters and Daybreakers_, she told his mind. The thorns had thickened and curled until there was no more light, and fog clung to Maya's shins. _You almost died, but Maya came in and saved you. For that, you owe her your life. _

Quinn swallowed the last drop of the Cup with a strangled noise—it sounded like a cross between a gasp and a choke. When she took another glance at his mind, she couldn't see past the thorns and fog. Her lips curled up into a smirk._ Perfect. You belong to _me_, now._

She withdrew from his mind and took off his handcuffs. Murmuring a quick spell to keep him asleep, she called for her guards. "John Quinn is now your comrade in arms," she told them when they arrived. "He owes me his life. Take him to a room, and tell me when he wakes up."

She walked outside as the werewolves carried Quinn to one of the spare bedrooms, relishing in the coolness of the weather. Due to the Great Earthquake, Florida was no longer one of the hottest states, as it was almost always shrouded in darkness—just like the rest of the world. Maya preferred it that way.

Night People paid her no attention as they bustled through their daily lives in the district, which was catered only for Night People. The closest human settlement was the Miami ghetto, fifty miles away. Maya paused to look at a clothing store's wares through a window when she heard someone shouting down the street. She frowned and looked up.

_What on earth is going on?_

Maya walked down the street, following the sounds of the commotion, until she came to a group comprised of three shapeshifters and a fourth, tiny struggling mass standing in front of an alley. One of the shapeshifters stepped away away—armed with a sharp wooden stake—and the two other shapeshifters were revealed to be holding a thrashing child vampire. Maya crossed her arms.

"What are you doing?" she asked. The ice of her voice cut through the air, and the shapeshifter that had been about to stake the vampire stopped and dropped the weapon, staring at her with wide golden eyes. The other two merely tightened their grip on the child, who was fighting even more to get away.

Maya walked up to the shapeshifter who had almost executed the vampire. "What exactly are you doing?" she hissed. "Do you not see that that is a vampire?"

The shapeshifter went pale and started shaking. She had the very strong sense that he was about to tip over and faint. _Pathetic_, she thought, turning her attention to the other two. "Well?"

The other two were stronger than their comrade, it seemed. "This is Timothy Lewis, Queen," said the one on the child's right. "He was a Daybreaker."

Timothy Lewis. Yes. Now that she thought about it, that name did seem familiar. Maya walked up to the vampire and knelt in front of him. He couldn't have been older than six than he was changed. Poor thing.

Timothy stilled at her approach and watched her with baleful dark blue eyes. His expression was similar to Quinn's. Lovely. She had always liked a challenge.

"Timothy—do you mind if I call you Timmy?—I know you. I remember Hunter talking about you. You were his pride and joy. But then . . . I heard that you escaped with the Daybreakers Quinn and Rashel, though I never found out what happened. Can I hear your side of the story?"

Timmy shrugged out of the werewolves' hold, this time successfully. His eyes had gone from fearful to wary. "She took me by force," he said, clearly, not with the voice of a four-year-old. "I didn't want to go with her."

Maya smiled. "That's what I thought. How about you join me? No one will mistake you for a Daybreaker ever again. You would be able to be a part of my court. A part of the elite."

Timmy's blue eyes sparked. "Sounds interesting," he said, wrenching himself out of the shapeshifters' grasp. "But I know that you want me to join you. So . . . what's in it for me?"

Maya grinned and dismissed the werewolves. "You won't be stuck as a four-year-old anymore."

Timmy's expression went blank. _Hook._ "How?"

"I can help you get a new body." She leaned closer and whispered in his ear how she planned to do that.

_Line_. His lips slowly began to curl up into a smile.

"Sure. I'm in."

_Sinker._

* * *

_Six hours later, both John Quinn and Timothy Lewis wake up with a Rashel Jordan/Circle Daybreak-free memory. The only difference is, Maya is there to see Quinn's, and she convinces him of the vampire supremacy he lived under before he met his soulmate._

_Eris, October 2015. The veil between the worlds is the thinnest this time of month: perfect for scrying. And Maya has a certain witch she's wanted to sniff out since 2001 . . ._

* * *

The candlelight flickered as the candle bobbed in the water. Gisèle Maigny was staring into the bowl, her blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Her breath came out in a foggy mist as her hands clenched the sides of the clay bowl.

Maya was beginning to get impatient. She knew scrying was difficult, especially when your subject was the Maiden of the Witches who had purposely put an anti-scrying spell on herself; but it had already been hours. She needed to feed. And this witch needed to _hurry_ up.

Gisèle's brow twitched, the first movement she had made in thirty minutes. Maya leaned forward slightly, eager but not hopeful. She'd been hopeful the past four times, too, and Gisèle hadn't gotten anything. "Do you see anything?" she asked.

"Yes," breathed the witch, looking like she had been hypnotized. That was the thing about scrying. The witch was so involved in their vision, that they would answer any question asked honestly. Maya had used that to her advantage often.

"What?" she asked.

Gisèle's fingers started trembling. "Lots of . . . mountains? Fog. Nighttime. Green everywhere. Uh, just lost it . . . wait! A . . . castle, somewhere? It's raining."

England came to mind, but she dismissed it quickly. No one could get out of the country without having her sources report it, not even in 2001. So this had to be somewhere in the United States. Green, rainy, foggy places with mountains—

She couldn't think of anything. "What does this castle look like?"

"Black stone. Not something vermin would use. There's a dried up moat around it, and abandoned huts inside the walls."

Maya suddenly knew what she was talking about.

_Black Dawn_, she thought. _The Dark Kingdom. That witch has more nerve than I thought, camping out in an abandoned vampire stronghold._ She stood up and said, "Thank you. I release you from your trance."

Gisèle sat back and blinked, the haze in her blue eyes clearing. She blinked again and looked up at Maya. "Did you get what you needed to know?" she asked. Maya nodded and smirked, pinching the candle flame and extinguishing the only source of light in the room.

"Oh yes. Your help is most appreciated." She grinned widely and stepped back, pushing past the curtain leading to a secret staircase that led to the prisons and gesturing to it. Gisèle would be able to find her way back.

When the witch was gone, Quinn spoke to her from somewhere on the grounds. _My Queen, are you finished?_

Maya unrolled a map and sat down, her eyes easily adjusting to the darkness. _Yes. What is it?_

_Timothy Lewis has just woken up. You told us to tell you._

Maya smirked. She pressed a pushpin into the Dark Kingdom's location on the map and stood up. _I'll be right there. Make sure he doesn't leave his room._

_Of course._

His automatic response made her smile widen. Ah, the tattoo had been a genius idea. Anyone who wore it was hers. John Quinn included.

She left the prison and trudged through the blizzard howling on the mountainside. The city of Eris was built into the mountainside, with the more important buildings close to the peak, and a scattering of outposts with tunnels built inside the rocky outcrop. The prisons and slave quarters were at the very base of the mountain, so she had a long climb in the upper tunnels.

She passed her zoo and hurried up the something-odd flight of the stone staircase. The inner tunnels were the main ways of transportation in Eris. Guards were the only ones who went outside into the snow, now. Once everyone had to meet outside for important announcements, but in 2007 a glass amphitheater had been added to Eris for that purpose.

Soon she pushed open a door that led to the kitchens in the upper palace. The humans tending to the slaves' meals froze and stared at her. One, a girl with long brown hair and equally dark eyes, hissed at them to keep working. Maya smiled appreciatively at the slave.

"I need one of you," she said, beckoning with a finger. The humans stilled again, and even the human in charge was stunned silent. In any case, no one stepped forward.

The smell of fear thickened until it was almost a choking cloud. Maya held her breath and rolled her eyes. _Pathetic vermin. You're always so frightened of everything._

Maya sighed and put her hands on her hips. "All right. I'll pick one—how about . . . _you_."

She pointed to a petite blonde girl with wide, glazed-over gray eyes. She always chose the ones with gray eyes. They reminded her too much of Hana.

But no matter. Her hands were washed of those two.

The girl swallowed, set the bowl of cereal down on the counter, and followed Maya. Maya left the kitchen and entered the hallway, admiring the gold-trimmed, white domed ceiling. Everything was pale green, pastel yellow, and bright white. Large windows let in lots of bright light and gave a beautiful view of the winter world below.

She turned to a large staircase, which led to the vampire quarters, and went up to Timothy's room. Quinn was leaning against the wall, studying a battle map. Some witches that had refused to rejoin the Night World were giving her Australians some trouble. He looked up at her approach and gave a wide smile to the human girl, exposing his teeth. She shuddered, but didn't look away.

Maya smiled and gestured to the door. The girl slowly put her hand on the handle and went inside. Maya looked at Quinn and gestured to the third floor, which was belonged to her and her only. "I'll be in my herbal study."

Someone growled behind the door. He nodded, not looking up from his battle maps. She went upstairs, going past two doors before she selected one and stepped inside. She immediately selected chamomile and rosemary, grinding their leaves into dust. Then she got a pitcher of water and put a selection of plants and ground-up crystals into it. The water soon turned a pale gold, and it left neon-yellow remnants on her finger when she stirred it.

Thirty minutes later, Maya was back at Timothy's door, holding a pain-relieving potion. Quinn had called two slaves, and they were carrying the girl Maya had chosen out of the room. The girl was clammy and limp, but Maya could hear a faint, staccato heartbeat. So Timothy hadn't killed her. Interesting.

She went inside and shut the door, placing the pitcher on the dresser. "Drink that whenever you want to," she said, sitting in his desk chair. Before the soul transfer, Timothy had been an artist, and he had used the desk when he was sketching out rough drafts. "It'll act like a painkiller."

Timothy was sitting on his bed, cross-legged, leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed over his chest. She scooted forward and propped her legs up on his bed. "How do you feel?" she said.

"Like hell," said Timothy, his voice slightly raspy. "My head is killing me."

Yes, that was the thing with soul transfers. They were messy. One had to get ingredients even the darkest Circle Midnight witches wouldn't dare dream of. Then you had to choose a host, and perform an elaborate ritual to switch the souls. If you messed up one word, the transfer was doomed. Then you had to wait a year for the soul to take up residence in the host.

In any case, Timothy Lewis and an unlucky vermin's soul transfer had been successful. The only sign of his ordeal was his new eyes. He had Maya's ever-changing eyes now, and it pleased her to no end.

He would be in pain for months as his soul adjusted to his new body, though. Growing pains. He'd be done with them in four months or so. "So what'd you think?" she asked, nodding in the direction of the door, referring to the girl he had just fed from. "Suitable?"

Timothy shrugged. "She didn't make any noise. Timid. It was . . . anticlimactic."

Maya smirked. Sometimes when vampires got too cooped up in one place, they got a little restless. It was why she was constantly sending agents to different places. But, she supposed, sleeping for a year would make you a bit stir-crazy. "Would you like us to organize a Hunt one of these days?"

The very thought of a Hunt made the sixteen-year-old vampire smirk and his eyes turn gold. "That would be new."

_Aha. Perfect entrance_. Maya leaned forward, her smirk widening. "Speaking of new . . . this morning, my spies just reported a new finding. We've discovered Aradia Crowley's location."

Timothy stretched and cringed, flexing his hands. "The Maiden?"

Maya nodded. "When you're feeling up to it, I want you to lead a party to get her. Bring her back to me alive. Can you do that?"

The newly-made vampire grinned, his green eyes going silvery at the thought of killing, just as all Night People's eyes did. "It shouldn't be a problem."

* * *

_Now, dear readers, you know that this plot to kidnap and kill the Maiden of the Witches would be all well and good, were it not for one thing. Ariel is now nearly fifteen years old and is perfectly capable of handling herself, and she's grown up to be a fighter._

_June 17, 2016. Timothy is leading an expedition to the Dark Kingdom to discover Aradia and take her back to Eris for her execution. Aradia has raised Ariel with the intent of introducing her as a brand-new player on the battlefield, and her plans are about to be set in motion._

* * *

There was something distinctly tragic about Black Dawn. It was a castle unlike any other; made of Night materials, by Night People, for Night People. There was something about its silence—it had been abandoned too many years ago for Aradia to remember it as the luxurious palace it had once been—that made one want to turn around and walk away.

Ariel didn't share her sentiments. She was a free spirit, that one. Always in search for adventure, always complaining of how boring her life in the mountains was. She loved exploring every nook and cranny of the fallen fortress.

Ariel ran a hand through her dark curls, her green-gold eyes surveying every crack and chip in the black stone. She tightened her grip on her flashlight and turned to smile at Aradia. "Ready, mom?" she asked. The witch flinched at the title, but Ariel didn't notice. She had already turned to the castle and was walking across the drawbridge.

Aradia followed her silently and came to a stop in the courtyard. She didn't know this part of the castle well. She only knew the slave huts and the prison. Ariel backtracked, grabbed her hand and said, "Let's go find the kitchen."

Her voice was hushed, a solemn whisper. She, too, had the innate sense to respect the dead. Perhaps it was from her ancestry. Aradia gave a half-smile at that—she really did need to stop being so gloomy.

Ariel led Aradia up to the southern hallway and up a flight of narrow, spiraling steps. "So," she said, her words bouncing around the halls. Droplets of water dripped from the ceiling, a product of last night's rain. "I heard that you were actually here before this place was ruined."

Aradia's half-smile grew into a full-fledged one. "Yes. I was."

Ariel stopped and turned around, her green-gold eyes glowing in the dark. "What was it like? Were you blind back then? Was it cool?"

"I've been blind all my life, Ariel," explained Aradia. "You know that. Continue on to the kitchens, okay? Once we get all our supplies, I'll tell you the story."

Ariel led her up the stairs and swung her flashlight up to the rafters. A rat scuttling across a wooden beam squeaked and raced to the safety of the darkness. Ariel chuckled and stepped onto the second floor, carefully maneuvering around any holes in the floor.

Finally, she came upon a half-rotted door. She pushed it open and stepped inside. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she smiled. "Bingo."

The room had definitely been a kitchen—there were rusted iron pans hanging on hooks on the wall, a fireplace in the wall, and several black, marble-like tables that had probably been used as countertops. She let go of Aradia's wrist and leapt over the hole in the floor, landing lightly and heading over to the counters.

Elaborate dressers were carved into them, and she pulled one open, shining her flashlight on it. Bugs scuttled out of and Ariel took a step back with a small gasp. Aradia smiled. "Scared, dear?"

Ariel scowled. "I'm not scared of bugs. They're just gross! And I wouldn't be scared of bugs if I was a witch like _you_, mom. You're so lucky. You can, like, zap the things with your witch-fire! Or a spell! _Ka-bow, I smite you with the words of Hecate!_" She made a little karate-chop move to emphasize her point. Aradia's smile faded.

"Witch powers aren't as strong anymore, Ariel. I doubt I could summon a spark, much less an actual blaze."

Ariel rolled her eyes and opened another drawer. No bugs crawled out, and she started rummaging through it. "Whatever, mom. Still beats being human! Anyway, what did you say we needed?"

"Sharp knives. The ones we have are getting dull. And if you see one, a pair of scissors. A brush or a comb, too."

Ariel pulled out a knife and poked it into the pad of her thumb, testing how sharp it was. Well, it didn't break the skin, but it still was uncomfortable. It would do. She pulled back the flap of the leather bag and put the knife inside.

They searched the whole castle—and the abandoned slave huts—until the barest tendrils of dawn began to creep into the sky. Aradia was sitting on the wet ground as Ariel searched a slave hut, and she lifted her face to the sky. "The sun comes out at last."

Ariel heard her and walked out, playing with a pair of slightly rusted, squeaky scissors. She frowned at the sky and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for, like, three hours."

Aradia smiled. "Do you like the day, Ariel?" she asked.

Ariel shrugged, fiddling with the scissors, smiling every time they squeaked. "It's okay. Makes things easier to see. I don't think it's better or worse than the night, you know?"

Aradia had known what her answer would be. She'd expected it, even. But the expectation did not stop the ache from forming in her chest. Her smile became sad, and she shook her head a little. _Oh, Ariel. I wish you knew what it was like to be afraid of the dark_, she thought. _I wish you knew what the day used to be._

Instead of voicing her thoughts, she said, "All right. That would be everything. Now it's time to get the herbs."

Ariel nodded and dropped the scissors in her bag. She helped the witch up and started walking towards the forest. "So what do we need? St. John's wort? Chamomile?"

"Actually—" Aradia stiffened as a new aura flooded the woods. It was something she hadn't sensed in years—shapeshifter. And not Ariel's scent, because she was used to that. A shapeshifter's musk, mingled with some sort of herb—_belladonna!_

Ariel shifted her weight and regarded her mother warily, her eyes wide. She had smelled it too. "Mom—?"

"Run," said Aradia. Ariel dropped the bag and took off. Before she could get to the forest, however, two men stepped out from behind a cluster of boulders. Ariel skidded to a stop and backed up into Aradia.

One of them crossed his arms over his chest and leered at them. "Going somewhere?"


	3. chapter iii

**saints & sinners  
****chapter iii**

* * *

Aradia stepped forward and pushed Ariel behind her. "Ariel," she said, not looking away from the shapeshifters, "I want you to run to the cave and issue lockdown. Don't come out until I get there. When I say go, run."

Ariel dropped the backpack and crouched, getting ready to break into a sprint. The men mirrored her actions. Aradia brought her hands together and closed her eyes, concentrating. A split second later, she spread them apart—and her hands wielded a bright, blazing green fire.

She pulled her hands back and launched the fire at the shapeshifters. It hurtled toward them, and the men barely managed to jump out of the way before it slammed into a tree and vanished. Ariel leapt up and dashed for the safety of the forest, not bothering to look behind her. Aradia launched another wave at the one closest to Ariel, then backed up to face them both.

"Who wants to die first?"

* * *

Ariel's lungs were aching by the time she reached the mountain's base. She slowed to a halt and rested her hands on her knees, catching her breath. _Stupid asthma_, she thought, closing her eyes and trying not to breathe too much of the mountain dust in.

When she knew that she wouldn't get an asthma attack, she straightened—and froze. A new smell was coming in, something that overrode the staleness of Aradia's lilac blossoms and her own scent. It was a mix of pine needles and sandalwood, which meant that there was someone watching her who was not Aradia.

Ariel looked out into the forest. Her gaze locked onto a pair of dark gray eyes, which suddenly shifted to become dark blue. Only one species' eyes changed colors—

_Vampire! _Move_, girl!_

She turned and started climbing up the mountain's outcrop. _Got to get to the cave. Once it's in lockdown, no one will be able to get in._

She pulled herself up and rolled over onto the next path, getting to her knees and checking the forest to see if the vampire was still there. When she didn't see any eyes, she looked up—and gasped.

The vampire was standing in front of her, his arms crossed, his eyes a dark green. He leaned against the rocks and smirked at her. "Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

Ariel turned. There was a small rock jutting up the pathway, almost like a ramp. If she timed it right and had a running start, she could jump to the ledge above it and get to the cave. She looked back at the vampire and smiled, then spun on her heel and took off.

She timed it perfectly. Her feet hit the rock and she launched herself up into the air, landing on the pathway above them. Pain rocked up her ankles at the hard landing and she steadied herself against a boulder. Then she jogged away, up the path toward the cave.

She was having trouble breathing now. She could see the familiar dead tree that overhung above the cave entrance. Suddenly, something slammed into her, and she went flying. She landed on the rocky path and caught herself with her hands. Stinging pain blossomed in her hands, and she face-planted in the dust.

The vampire rolled her onto her back and smirked at her. "You're just a little cheetah, aren't you? But it's hopeless."

Ariel was gagging on the dust. She couldn't breathe, much less reply to him. He looked up at the sky, her wrists pinned between his gloved hands. His hair was dark black, and his eyes were always shifting colors. It scared her. _He looks . . . evil_, she thought. _A monster. Like a true vampire._

He didn't seem to pick up on her thoughts. He continued in a soft, melodious voice, "I'm a vampire, and you're a human. I'm stronger than you. I'm faster than you. I'm smarter than you." His green eyes lowered to focus on her face, and his upper lip curled in disgust. "What are you doing with the likes of Aradia Crowley?"

Aradia inhaled sharply through her nose and coughed, wheezing, struggling to relieve the ache in her lungs. He leaned forward, their noses almost touching. "Answer me," he whispered, staring into her eyes. The green morphed into a bright, innocent shade of blue. "Please."

Ariel was mesmerized. She would have answered him if she had been able to breathe. But then the ground shook and green fire lit up the sky somewhere far away, and the vampire looked up to see what the noise was. The spell was broken. Ariel launched herself forward and buried her teeth into his hands. Leather and skin tore, and blood filled her mouth.

It couldn't have hurt, but he reared back, setting her free. She got to her feet and jumped off of the outcrop, landing on the lower pathway. A jolt traveled up her legs and her landing stirred up more dust. Ariel coughed and frantically cleared her throat, desperately inhaling through her nose and spitting out the vampire's blood.

She glanced up at the outcrop and jumped off the edge, falling the final six feet to the ground. She landed on her feet and rolled, wincing at the throbbing pain running through her ankles. Then she got to her feet and started running.

The dust soon cleared and she was able to breathe again. But she had barely slowed down when the vampire materialized in front of her, his eyes a dark shade of gray. He looked furious. Ariel skidded to a halt and crouched down, narrowing her eyes. Her gaze darted to his hand—it was completely healed, with dried blood the only reminder that the wound had existed—and went back up to his face.

"You're an idiot," he seethed, stalking toward her. Ariel danced around him, refusing to let her fear show. She bared her teeth and crouched lower, ready to run away when she saw an opening. Aradia had trained her to run fast, after all. "You made the mistake of pissing me off," he continued. Before she could blink, he was in front of her.

He grabbed her arm and shoved her to the side. Ariel went sprawling and crashed into a tree shoulder-first. Wood splintered and embedded itself into her shoulder. Ariel couldn't help the little squeak of pain that came out of her mouth. He crouched in front of her, his jaw clenched. He grabbed her chin and tilted it up. "You're spunky," he muttered. "It's going to get you killed."

Ariel pushed herself up and grabbed a splinter. She raised her fist and plunged the sliver of wood deep into his shoulder blade. The vampire yowled and reeled back, and Ariel got to her feet. Blood was quickly staining his shirt burgundy, and she hesitated. What if he died because of her?

The vampire looked up at her, and his gray eyes became so dark they were black. "I'm going to snap your neck when I get this thing out of me," he snarled, pulling his lips back to reveal full-length canines.

Any pity she had for him disappeared. Ariel whirled around and ran back to the mountains—to safety. He didn't follow her, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

Halfway up the mountain, she encountered a problem. Her asthma attack was kicking in. She slowed down when she was sure that the vampire wouldn't be following her anytime soon and paused, resting her hands on her knees in an attempt to catch her breath.

Her pep talk wasn't working. Her lungs were starting to ache, and any desperate gasps she sucked in did nothing to relieve the pressure in her chest. _Get to the cave_, thought Ariel, starting to trudge up the path. _Find your inhaler._

Except her breaths were starting to become wheezes. Ariel held a hand up to her mouth and coughed violently, leaning against the rocks for support. Her legs felt wobbly, and she sank to the ground.

A falcon's cry stole her attention. Ariel looked up to see a golden bird heading straight toward her. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the bird morphed into a man with curly golden hair, and he landed smoothly on the outcrop. He crossed his arms and stared down at Ariel, smiling slightly. "Didn't think you could escape, did you?" he asked. He had a thin, narrow face, and his eyes made Ariel shiver.

_This isn't an adventure anymore._

Before she could attempt to respond, the shapeshifter lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder, turning around and walking down the mountain. By the time they got to the edge of the forest, her lungs were burning.

He threw her down next to Aradia, whose arms were shackled behind her back. The vampire was pacing in front of her, his shirt and shoulder bloody. Ariel only had time to squeeze Aradia's arm before her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she collapsed onto the ground.

The vampire noticed it immediately. "What's wrong with her?"

Aradia didn't move, but her brow was furrowed. "I think she's suffering an asthma attack. She can't breathe."

He knelt next to Ariel, briefly checked her pulse, and glared at Aradia. "If this is some trick—"

Aradia narrowed her eyes. "Look at her! Do you think this is a trick?"

Ariel's face and hands were clammy, and her lips were turning blue. He took one look at her and took the witch's handcuffs off. Aradia was at her niece's side in an instant.

"Hecate-Witch Queen, I call upon your power as descendant of your daughter Hellewise," she murmured, cupping her hand over Ariel's mouth. "Restore her life-breath to her, and let her breathe again."

It was a few agonizing minutes before Ariel began to obviously breathe again. When her heartbeat once more sounded steady, he rebound Aradia and nodded to the shapeshifter. "Gavin, take her to the truck outside the mountains," he said.

Gavin pulled a small, crooked piece of iron from his pocket and hit Aradia over the head with it. The witch's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she pitched forward. Gavin put the iron back in his pocket and lifted the Maiden bridal-style, pausing to nod to Ariel. "What about her?"

"I'll take care of her," sneered the vampire. His shoulder still ached from where she had driven the wooden splinter through his collar. That one was too feisty to live at Eris, he decided. She was a sac full of blood, he was thirsty, and she wasn't necessary.

He crouched down and took off his gloves, eying the pulsing vein in her neck. No need to get them bloody for this.

Before he could lean down and drink his fill, the girl woke up. Up close, he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "What . . ." she breathed, obviously disoriented. Then realization hit her, and she shot up. But she was pressed up against the rocks, with nowhere to go without the chance of him catching her. He gave her a lopsided smile. Ariel's green-gold eyes flickered around. "Where's Aradia?"

"That's none of your concern," he said. "It's not like you're going to be seeing her anytime soon."

Her gaze turned wary. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

He smiled. "It hurts if you resist."

She wasn't expecting it. One moment, he was in front of her, glaring, and the next, his face was buried in her neck and he was drinking her blood. A slow flush crept up Ariel's face, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the pain_—_

The pain never came. Instead, there seemed to be a heartbeat of silence, and then yellow light exploded behind her eyes. A shiver crawled up her spine, leaving tingles in its wake. It was unfamiliar, but not altogether unpleasant. _Oh, God_, she thought, _it's some kind of vampire mind trick. They make their victims feel like they're _enjoying _it_—

The vampire's blunt words changed her mind when he said, _What the hell?_

White and amber joined the yellow and danced in Ariel's vision. Was this his . . . mind? It was interesting, to say the least. The explorer part of her was itching to take a romp inside, but the sensible one kept reminding her that a _leech_ was drinking her blood. No, not a leech—his name was—Timothy?

Timothy pulled away, and Ariel sat up, disoriented. She could feel the blood trickling down her neck and into her shirt. The whole ordeal couldn't have lasted longer than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Tingles were running down her whole body, and she felt like every nerve of hers was on fire.

Timothy was staring at her, his eyes the bluest of blues. They stared at each other for a long while, and the only sounds were their breathing. Ariel reached up and felt at her neck, wincing. Then she looked at him. "Aren't you going to finish me off?"

Timothy recoiled. "What?" he breathed. He didn't seem very focused at all. What was going on?

Ariel tensed, preparing to get up and run. "You said . . . you said you would kill me."

Timothy looked away and clenched his jaw. Then he pinched his nose and shook his head. "No, I won't kill you."

Ariel started shivering. "Then what are you going to do?" she asked. He needed to give her an opening so she could get out of there and find Aradia—

Timothy smiled, disrupting her thoughts. Because his smile wasn't an easygoing, slightly lopsided smile anymore. It was a desperate smile, forced, with a touch of insanity. It scared her.

"I'm taking you to Eris," he said. Something hit the side of her head and the world disappeared.

* * *

_June 19, 2016. Timothy is ten minutes away from Eris. But Maya has bigger concerns on her hands: some of her guards, who have previously been operating in Canada, have just arrived with four people, one of whom is supposed to be dead._

* * *

It was night-time on the mountainside. Two slaves stood next to the double oak doors, awaiting orders. The candles scattered throughout the room cast eerie shadows on the wall. Sparks flew from the flickering hearth and sputtered out on the stone floors. It was a very foreboding scene.

But that wasn't what concerned Maya. What concerned her was the table sitting in the middle of her throne room, and the red-haired vampire lying on it.

Three people were kneeling in front of the table, their hands shackled to their ankles. She recognized all three of them—they had been prisoners of hers, once, back in 2006. James Rasmussen. A vermin girl named—Maddie? Molly?

And Delos Redfern. The Wild Power she had executed in 2006.

Maya walked around the table again, looking down at the corpse on the table. Poppy North no longer looked like the elfin sixteen-year-old of 2006. Now, she was middle-aged, her skin tanned and cracked, with weathered wrinkles starting to appear on her face. Her hair wasn't as vibrant as it used to be. She was probably in her thirties when she was killed.

The prisoners in front of her were silent. Maya left Poppy North's side to stand in front of Delos Redfern, the vampire prince.

"Delos. We _executed_ you," she murmured.

Delos's yellow eyes were defiant. "That was a glamour, nothing more, and we both know it."

"I _know_," she cooed, crouching down in front of him. There was a brace on his left wrist—her binding spell from ten years ago had not worn off. Good. "But who do you think took your place, hmm?"

Delos blanched. Maya's smirk widened, and she continued, "Maybe I'll tell you later. Right now, what _I_ want to know is how you escaped. Who helped you? Was it a healing witch? Possibly . . . Gillian Lennox?"

Delos's golden eyes wavered for a split second, but it was all the confirmation she needed. "Well." Maya smiled and stood up. Quinn chuckled from his corner of the throne room. _He_ knew what would happen to Gillian Lennox's soulmate now. His laugh drew the attention of everyone in the room.

Quinn stood next to one of the candles next to Maya's stone, half of his face covered in darkness. Maya returned to the table, closed Poppy North's wide green eyes, and asked, "How did she die?"

"She attacked the werewolves out of nowhere. One of them grabbed a tree branch and hit her with it. It knocked her out, and they finished her off after that."

Maya lifted her eyes to stare at James Rasmussen. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were like steel shards, but none of his anger was directed at her. His glare was saved solely for Quinn.

"How can you live with yourself?" he asked. The words were hardly more than a hiss, but in the silence of the throne room, it sounded like a gunshot. Maya stiffened, then relaxed, a smile blossoming across her face.

No matter. Her Cup was strong enough. She would let James talk—for now.

Quinn, who had previously been staring at Poppy with a blank expression, focused on James. His black eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

James's lips curled back, showing his fangs. If he hadn't been bound in magic-imbued wood, Maya knew he would have attacked Quinn then and there. "Serving Maya," he spat. "Are you out of your mind? What would Rash—"

Maya flicked her wrist. James's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped forward. Maddie the vermin girl barely stifled a gasp as she stared at him with wide eyes.

Maya turned her attention on to her, and she walked around the table to stand in front of the girl. She bent down, grabbed her face with her hands, and turned her head from side to side. Then she laughed, smiling at the vampire prince. He still had his brace on. Good. "You know, Delos," she said, her smile widening, "I really don't get what you see in her."

She turned Maddie's face towards Quinn. "Does she look beautiful to you?"

Quinn smirked. "She's not my type."

He didn't seem affected by James's outburst. Maya relaxed, reassured, and turned back to the vampire prince. Delos was bristling, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes spitting fire. She was unfazed. "Don't tell me you've grown attached to the thing," Maya sneered. She let go of Maddie's face and straightened, turning and walking toward Poppy North. "She's only _vermin_."

Then, Maddie spoke. Her voice was soft, but firm, and she took everyone by surprise. "My name is Maggie Neely," she said. "I'm not vermin. I'm a human being, just like Quinn was, just like _you _were. Why do you hate us so much?"

Maya stopped halfway to Poppy's table. A slow smile spread across her face, and she turned around, walking back to Maggie. "Maggie, is it, dear? Well. Since you seem to be Delos's new plaything, I'll make sure we keep _special _care of you."

Maggie's eyes narrowed. Maya smiled.

That was all it took. Maggie's eyes closed and her chin fell to rest on her chest, as if she had fallen asleep. A roar ripped itself from Delos—a sound so horrible, so menacing, it actually startled Maya.

But in a split second, she composed herself and crouched in front of him. "Shh, shh," she said, placing a finger on her lips. Delos was twisting his hands behind him, as if he thought he could really break out of his handcuffs, and his fangs were bared and at their full length.

He didn't scare her, though. Maya smirked and shook her head. "Be a good prince, Delos. No harm will come to Maggie." His snarls quieted, but he still looked murderous. Maya stopped smiling and narrowed her eyes.

"I intend to execute you, like I should have done ten years ago. Then my rule will be forever." She stood up and shook out her hair. "If you try to escape—if you fight me—if you put one toe out of line, I _will _kill her."

She flicked her wrist before the prince could respond. Delos, too, was knocked unconscious by the psychic punch. The only sound in the throne room was the hissing of the candles, the crackling of the fireplace, and the heartbeats of the slaves.

Maya turned around and passed Poppy's corpse, sitting down on her throne. "These soulmates are giving me a headache," she said, smoothing out the wrinkles in her white dress. Quinn was silent.

After a moment, she looked up and met the eyes of the Lady Herald—the formal title for the slave in charge. Maya had never bothered to remember her name. "Herald," she said. The Lady Herald—a tall young woman with long, straight brown hair, equally dark eyes and olive-colored skin—stepped forward and curtseyed.

"My Queen?"

"Get some strong slaves and take Maggie Neely to my study. I'll take care of her then. Also," she gestured to Poppy's corpse, "make sure someone takes care of that. It's spoiling my appetite."

The Lady Herald curtseyed again, gestured for her fellow slave to follow her, and left the room. When the doors had slammed shut, Quinn finally spoke. "What are you going to do about Gillian Lennox?"

Maya shook her head. "I'll handle her," she muttered. "It's very likely she used something to forget about the whole thing."

A few minutes later, the Lady Herald re-appeared, this time with four shapeshifters, two of which were werewolves. One picked up Poppy North's corpse and looked at Maya. "What should we do with her?" he asked.

Maya waved a hand. "I don't care. Put her in the furnace, throw her off the mountain, feed her to the lions—just get rid of her."

The werewolf nodded and walked out. Two others picked up the table and carried it out of the room. The fourth one unshackled Maggie Neely, picked her up, and left the room. Quinn moved James and Delos to sit against the wall so that they wouldn't get in the way of the shapeshifters.

The Lady Herald shut the oak doors after them and turned around, curtseying again. She held the curtsey until Maya nodded, giving her permission to speak. "What is it?"

"My lord Timothy has come back, my Queen," she said, not looking up from the floor. "He and my lord Gavin. My lord Timothy says that he has arrived with what you sought."

Timothy had Aradia. Maya felt a small smile spread across her face, and she stood up. "Send him in, then."

The Lady Herald curtseyed and opened the door. Immediately, four people strode in. Two of them were bound. Maya walked to the center of the throne room and smiled, holding out her hands. Timothy stepped forward and knelt, kissing her hands. "My Queen," he said, avoiding her gaze, "I have returned."

Maya looked at the prisoners then. Yes, that was Aradia—she would recognize that face anywhere. The witch stood tall, her chin lifted defiantly, but Maya could smell the fear on her. Her hands, as well as her companion's, were tied in front of her, shackled by iron chains.

She turned her attention on the other one and furrowed her brow, taken aback. "What happened to Crevan?" she asked. Gavin, who was standing next to the second person, clenched his jaw.

"Aradia killed him, Majesty," he said. Maya raised an eyebrow and appraised the Maiden once more.

"Really? How disappointing. But that doesn't explain why we have a second person here." She looked at the girl standing next to Aradia. Her curly hair was black and wild, utterly untamed. Dust and dirt covered her, and she could smell dried blood on the girl. "Who are you, child?"

The girl's eyes flickered green-gold in the candlelight. She swallowed hard before whispering hoarsely, "Ariel. My name is Ariel."

"Tell me, Ariel. Can you cook? Clean?"

Another swallow. "No."

Maya almost smiled. "Then what_ do _you do, dear?"

"I . . . I know herbs," she offered, obviously unsure of what to say. "I explore."

Maya pursed her lips. She already had a slave woman who was an expert in herbs, and slaves had no business exploring. She wouldn't have any free time to do that, anyway. Plus, she didn't look like the docile type—obedient, compliant, easy to control. She looked like a fighter.

Maya didn't like fighters.

It was then she noticed that Ariel was wheezing slightly, as if she had run all the way from the train station to the palace room. "What's wrong with you?"

She saw Aradia's jaw clench out of the corner of her eye. Ariel licked her lips and glanced at the floor, digging her nails into her palms. "I, uh, have asthma because I was born early. Sometimes I have difficulty breathing."

"Oh, wonderful. You're _disabled_, too." She waved a hand and rolled her eyes. "She has nothing of value. Kill her."

Timothy jumped in front of Ariel and shook his head. "My Queen," he said. Maya lifted an eyebrow, bemused, but let him continue. "She does have _something _of value."

"Oh?" she said, waiting for him to elaborate. Ariel was glaring at him—a sight she thought humorous, considering he was trying to save her life.

Timothy gave a small smirk. "She has blood, doesn't she?"

Maya burst out laughing. "Why, Timothy!" she teased. "If you wanted her, why didn't you say so? Of course you can have her. I'm sure she can be put to good use here, despite her . . . shortcomings." She nodded to the Lady Herald, who immediately came forward. "Take her to the slave quarters. Make sure you tell her what is expected of her."

The Lady Herald curtseyed and went to Ariel's side. After Gavin unlocked her chains, the Lady Herald took the girl's arm and led her out of the room. Maya then turned her attention back onto Timothy and Gavin. She pointed to James and Delos and said, "Take them to the twenty-first block in the jails. Make sure you tell Tora so she can assign a guard."

Timothy and Gavin left, leaving only the second slave girl, Maya, Quinn and Aradia in the throne room. Maya clasped her hands behind her back and regarded Aradia with bright blue eyes. "What do you think we should do with her?" she asked him. "Execute her immediately, or wait a while?"

Quinn stepped in front of Aradia and smiled. "I think we should wait a while," he admitted. "Execution might be too hasty. What if this is a glamour?"

Aradia's lips were trembling, and her fear was rolling off of her in waves. Maya could see his point and nodded. "All right. We'll wait, in case any glamours fade. The most powerful ones can last up to two weeks."

She put her hand on Aradia's arm, ready to find a guard to take her away. Suddenly, in a surprising burst of strength—considering she was bearing iron chains—she wrestled herself out of Maya's grasp and lunged for Quinn, her hands outstretched.

"—and in the name of Hecate-Witch Queen, _I free you from the Lethe!_" she shouted. Her palms hit his forehead, and blinding white light filled Quinn's vision. He stumbled back, clutching his forehead in pain.

When the light cleared, he found he was kneeling on the ground. Maya was kneeling in front of him, her eyes a bright green, a few tendrils of hair escaping the bun piled on top of her head to frame her face. Aradia was gone, and so was the second slave girl.

"Quinn," said Maya, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Quinn frowned at her. "What did she do? What was that?"

She shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyes were still a vibrant green. Those eyes—he shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"A spell, probably. She probably meant to harm you. Do you feel all right?"

Quinn shook his head, composing himself. "Nothing happened."

Maya relaxed and stood. "Good. I can't have my best officer being incapacitated by some renegade witch's spells. You are dismissed for the night."

Quinn kissed her hands and stood. "Goodnight, my Queen," he said, exiting the room. Maya watched him leave. When he was gone, she went to the crackling fireplace and took out the flower she'd used to hold her hair together. Her hair came undone and fell in dark waves.

Maya looked at the flower in her hand. It was a calla lily—pure white, with a delicate yellow stigma in the middle of it. Its petals felt like velvet. She slowly crushed it in her fist, clenching her jaw.

"John Quinn is mine," she hissed. She threw the flower into the fire and watched it blacken and dissolve into ashes. "And nothing that Maiden does will change that."


	4. chapter iv

**[A/N]** I should probably explain something to you guys, because it's confusing some of you. When I said that this story is 100% complete, it is. I've written the whole story - the only matter that lies ahead is beta'ing it and posting it until it's complete on this website. If you're still confused, PM me. Apologies for the confusion. Don't forget to leave feedback, por favor! :)

* * *

**saints & sinners  
****chapter iv**

* * *

"It's not much farther," said the Lady Herald. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave Ariel a warm smile. "The slave quarters are built on the side of the mountain, so at least we get a view."

Ariel was silent as she shuffled after the woman, who had yet to tell her what her name was. And she couldn't keep track of the winding hallways they went through.

At last, the woman came to a stop in front of a single door. She pushed it open and stepped inside the room, pausing to hold the door open for Ariel. Ariel took a deep breath and entered the room, glancing around.

This room, too, was lit with candles, though it seemed decidedly brighter than the throne room. Two plush pale blue couches were pushed up on opposite sides of the room, and there was a burning hearth in between two large windows. Unlike the one in the throne room, this hearth was guarded by a metal grate.

There was a sink in the corner, with a cup full of toothbrushes and a bar of soap sitting on its edges. A device Ariel had never seen before hung on a hook next to the mirror above it, and on the opposite side of the mirror was a hand towel. Next to the sink itself was a closed corner of the room, marked by a red-and-white checkered curtain.

The girls stopped chatting when Ariel entered the room. They were all wearing the same thing that the Lady Herald was: a long, white ankle- and elbow-length dress, with a brown dress over that, and tied together with a brown leather belt.

The Lady Herald smiled and put a hand on Ariel's shoulder. "Guys, this is Ariel. She's a new arrival." To Ariel, she said, "Sorry about the candles. We get a lot of really bad snowstorms, and our power's out a lot. It should be back up by morning. The candles really make Eris seem like the haunted castle type, huh?"

Ariel forced a smile. No one moved. The air of the room suddenly went from easygoing to somber as everyone turned their attention on her. "She's going to be one of Quinn's," said one, running a brush through her long brown hair. Ariel blinked at her.

"Who's Quinn?"

"He's Maya's second-in-command," answered another, this one a blonde. "A vampire. Black hair, black eyes. Really evil guy. And he only drinks the blood of girls with black hair and green eyes."

Ariel self-consciously touched her throat. Timothy's marks had faded, but the memory had not. "Why?" she asked, looking at the Lady Herald. She just pursed her lips and shook her head. The blonde one scoffed.

"Iona knows," she told Ariel, "she just refuses to tell any of us."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said the Lady Herald, who was apparently Iona. The blonde rolled her eyes and leaned back into the couch. Iona clapped her hands and smiled brightly at Ariel. "Anyways! Well, Ariel, Maya told me to tell you the rules. So let's get you up to date, shall we?"

She went over to the center of the couches and sat down on the floor, gesturing for Ariel to follow her lead. Ariel did so, and Iona took her hands in hers. "Goddess, your hands are cold," she said, rubbing them to warm them up. "All right. Who wants to tell her rule number one?"

The blonde scooted forward and sat next to Ariel. "This whole place is crawling with Night People. You're just a measly human. Whoever isn't wearing our uniform," she gestured to her brown-and-white ensemble, "is a Night Person. You have to refer to every Night Person as 'my lord' or 'my lady,' with the exception of Maya. You must call Maya 'my Queen.'"

"What if I don't?"

The Hairbrush Girl nodded to a redheaded girl who was braiding another's hair. "Well, some of them—like Tora—they don't care. But most of them do. You're new, so they'll probably correct you. But if you stay here long enough, and you keep doing it, they'll take out your tongue—like Roxanne. Apparently not calling them by their _proper_ titles is a sign of disrespect."

Ariel was horrified. "That's awful!"

"That's Night People," said the blonde, scowling. "They're monsters. And they call _us_ intolerant of others."

Ariel frowned. "But . . . not all Night People are all bad, right? The witches must be nice."

Roxanne snorted and continued braiding her friend's hair. The blonde elaborated, "The witches rejoined the Night World in 2004, after Mother Cybele was killed. They're just as anti-human as the rest of them. Don't trust the witches, kid."

"Aradia's not," defended Ariel. All of the girls stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

"Aradia? As in the Maiden of the Witches?" she asked, who looked to Iona for confirmation. Iona ran a hand through her hair and gave an exasperated nod.

"Yes, Callie. Maya found Aradia Crowley, and they brought her in. Apparently Ariel was living with her."

"No way. So, are you like, her daughter?" breathed Callie. Her expression darkened just as quickly, and she narrowed her eyes. "But—you're _human_, right? Maya would never enslave a Night Person."

Ariel nodded and fixed her gaze on Iona's face. "What's going to happen to her?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Hairbrush Girl. "Maya's going to kill her. She's been looking for Aradia since the War."

Ariel gaped. "What? That can't happen! We have to get Aradia out of here!"

The other girls looked at each other and dissolved into laughter. Iona stood up and forced a smile. "Ariel, I have some extra uniforms for new arrivals. Why don't we go see if any of them fit you?"

Ariel was blushing furiously, but she stood up and followed Iona into a room. Two bunk beds were pushed up against the wall, and there was one dresser and a closet. An end table with a lamp and a box of tissues was next to the closet.

"This is the first quarter of the servant rooms," she explained. "Every quarter has five rooms—four people to a room. But since I'm the Lady Herald, and our quarter has seventeen people, I get a room to myself. You can pick your bunk, if you want."

Ariel sat down on the lower bed, feeling numb and far too cold. Her lungs ached from the chilly air. "They're laughing," she whispered. "My mom might _die_, and they're laughing!" She buried her face in her hands, unbidden tears beginning to fall.

Iona pulled out a dress and smoothed it out before looking at Ariel. When she saw that the girl was crying, she put the dress back on the rack, grabbed the box of tissues, and sat next to her. Ariel sniffed and took the tissues from her.

"This is so embarrassing," she muttered, blowing her red nose. "I haven't cried since I was ten."

Iona smiled and rubbed her back. "Don't worry. Everyone cries on their first day. It's just so overwhelming, you know? But you'll get used to it."

Ariel shook her head and cried harder. "I—I have to get out of here," she said. "I have to get Aradia out. She's my _mom!_ Maya can't kill her!"

Iona stared at Ariel for a long while. Eventually, Ariel stopped sniffling and just dabbed at her eyes with tissues. Iona abruptly stood up and went to her dresser, opening one drawer and rummaging through it.

Ariel sniffed. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Something that will get me killed if I'm caught," muttered Iona. She found what she was looking for, and, pressing it to her chest, returned to sit next to Ariel. She held out the items, which were old, wrinkled pieces of paper with various sketches on them.

"What is this?" murmured Ariel.

"This is a map of Eris," said Iona, shuffling through the papers until she reached one design. "All right, here's the map of the jails."

She handed them to Ariel, who started to examine them with bright eyes. "Do you know what Circle Daybreak was?" she began. Ariel furrowed her brow.

"Um. Aradia told me about them once, but I'm not really sure. Weren't they fighters or something?"

Iona smiled. "That's right. They fought Maya's forces during the War. They were on the humans' side. I was a Daybreaker. Maya separated me from my family. I'd do anything to see her overthrown."

Ariel looked up. "Will you help me?"

Iona nodded. "Aradia's the last main leader that Daybreak has, since—never mind. Point is, we can't afford to have her killed. There are some Daybreakers here, too, people who didn't get Maya's tattoo. They'll help you out, if I talk to them."

She started pointing to boxes on the maps and discussing the jail's layout to her. Suddenly, when she was explaining that there was a zoo above the jail, the door opened.

Ariel looked up to see a tall woman standing in the doorway. She had smooth brown skin and straight black hair that was pulled back into a harsh bun; her eyes were a molten gold, and she held herself with a strict discipline. Ariel took one look at her and knew she was a shapeshifter—a tiger, to be specific. She didn't know how she knew that; she just did.

Ariel felt her mouth go dry and her heartbeat sped up. Iona, however, showed no signs of panicking. "Hello, Tora," she said.

Tora tilted her head and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "What are you doing, Iona?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Iona looked up and met the tiger shapeshifter's eyes. "You're no fool, Tora. This is Ariel Crowley. She's Aradia's daughter."

Tora's eyes flickered to Ariel for the first time. "Aradia's child, you say?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes. "Interesting."

Ariel was suddenly self-conscious. "What?"

"It's nothing," said the guard, moving closer to them. "Iona, to let you know, I found Denise wandering the halls with Aradia Crowley. She was trying to put her in her cell block. I put Aradia in block twenty-two and brought Denise back here. She's safe."

Iona laughed, her brown eyes bright. "Thank you, Tora."

Tora nodded and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. It was as if she'd never been there. Ariel looked at Iona and frowned. "She's not going to tell Maya about this, is she?"

"No. Tora was—is—fiercely loyal to the First House of Shapeshifters and Circle Daybreak. She won't tell anyone." Iona smiled and looked at Ariel. "Don't worry, okay? We'll get her out of there."

Ariel frowned at the maps. "Maya said glamours can last up to two weeks. What's a glamour?"

"Glamours . . . well, they're a spell that people put on either themselves or others. It can disguise someone to look like someone they aren't. The problem is, glamours don't last long. The weakest ones fade in up to two hours, the strongest ones can last for two weeks. You have to keep re-applying the spell if you want it to last."

Ariel was silent. Iona took the maps away from her and said, "It's getting late. How about you get some sleep?"

Ariel nodded. "Sure," she said, picking at her clothes. "Am I supposed to sleep in this?"

Iona stood up and returned to the dresser. She rummaged through the dresser and pulled out a T-shirt and faded, loose pants. She turned around and held them up for Ariel's inspection. "What about these?"

Ariel nodded, and Iona tossed the outfit to her. When Ariel was changed and in bed, Iona blew out the candle and opened the door, stepping out into the main room again. "Night."

"Night," Ariel whispered. When Iona closed the door, she found herself—for the first time in years—afraid of the dark.

_This isn't an adventure anymore._

* * *

When Ariel woke up, the room she was in was painfully bright. The cave usually wasn't so airy—wait. She sat up, the events of the past couple days rushing back to her. "So the dreamer awakens," said a voice. Ariel looked up to see Callie sitting on the top bunk on the opposite side of the room, smiling down at her. She wore a loose white shirt that went down to her knees and nothing else. "Hey."

"Hi," whispered Ariel, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"My shift starts in a few hours. The other girls are gone." She smiled, her bangs falling across one blue eye. "Iona was worried about you, so I offered to show you the ropes. I hope you don't mind public baths—but if you do, I hope you get over it quickly."

Ariel felt her eyes widen. "Public baths?"

Callie nodded and jumped down from the bunk. "Yeah. The leeches want us slaves to look and smell nice. No one wants to be drinking the blood of someone who smells like sweat all day."

Ariel looked at the foot of her bed, which had the slaves' uniform spread out across it. There was a note pinned to its front. She grabbed it and read: _This is going to be your new uniform. If it doesn't fit, there are more dresses in the closet. Go with Callie—she'll show you what to do. Also, Timothy's summoned you. Go to his room at some point today. - I_

"What's _summoned_ mean?" she asked, getting out of bed. The stone floor was too cold for her, and she sat back down on the bed. Callie looked out the window, watching snowflakes float past them.

"It means that you were picked to be a certain vampire's donor," she said. "But don't worry, you can go there in your own time. If you don't come at all, though, they get mad. The later you wait, the hungrier they get."

Ariel swallowed and put the note back on the dress. Anxiety coiled in her gut, and she could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. Timothy was going to drink her blood. Again.

Callie walked up to her and held out an arm, wrinkling her nose. Ariel hooked her arm through Callie's, and Callie led her over to a corner of the room that was marked off by a red-and-white checkered curtain.

She pulled it back to reveal a narrow staircase that lead to the floor above them. It looked like it would collapse any minute. Callie stepped away and gestured to the staircase. "Yeah, it's time for you to take a bath. You smell terrible, darling. Shall we?"

* * *

Ariel sat on the couch, her skin rubbed raw and smelling like French vanilla, as Callie plugged in the blow dryer and sat behind her. She had the towel wrapped tightly around herself as Callie blow-dried her hair behind her. Even with the heat of the blow dryer, the servants' quarters was freezing. "Don't worry," said Callie, tousling Ariel's hair, "you'll get used to it."

Ariel wasn't sure if she referred to the cold, or having to undress in front of at least three other women every time she bathed.

Soon, her hair was dry, and Ariel stood up. Her feet and fingers were numb. Callie was already dressed in her uniform, and as she started to blow-dry her own hair, she said, "Go into your room and towel off. When you're dry, get changed into your uniform and go to Timothy's room."

"Where's Timothy's room?"

Callie gave her an apologetic smile. "I really don't know. I'm sorry."

Ariel pursed her lips, nodded, and stole away to the safe privacy of her room. There, she toweled off and changed. The uniform, despite appearances, was actually quite soft and warm. _They probably want to keep their possessions in the best working order_, she thought sourly, stepping into the brown flats Iona had laid out for her.

Then, unable to control her impulse, she opened a drawer in the dresser and took out Iona's maps. The servant quarters were underground, and thus, in direct access to the jail—all she had to do was go to the kitchens and down two flights of the West Stairs, and she would be in the middle of the jail cells, which was Block 11.

Aradia was in Block 22. If she got Aradia out and they went one flight of stairs up, they would be in the zoo. Two flights up would be the kitchen, which was close to the slaves' Third Quarter. There was a direct exit from the jails to the mountain, but that was all the way at the front, in front of Block 1.

A plan began to formulate in Ariel's mind, and she slowly put the maps back. When she took one last look in the mirror—wait, why did she care whether she looked pretty or not?—she tied her belt around her waist and left the servants' quarters. Callie was gone.

She stepped out into the main room and blinked at the bright light streaming in from the gigantic windows. Sconces and paintings lined the opposite wall—paintings of death, destruction, despair; but also some of great beauty, too. There was one painting of a bouquet of irises, white heather, and monkshood.

Ariel rounded a corner and gaped. She seemed to be in the palace's entrance hall: it was white, gold and green, with a magnificent mosaic patterned as a black belladonna. The ceiling was arched and almost entirely made of glass. A double staircase curved up the sides of the wall. It had polished dark cherry wood, and a wrought-iron handrail. A chandelier hung in the middle of the room, the only part of the ceiling that wasn't glass, and blazed with the light of a hundred candles.

She had never expected to see vampires living in such a _bright _environment. Didn't the sun hurt them or something?

"What are you doing?"

Ariel looked up from the belladonna mosaic to meet the black eyes of the vampire she'd seen last night—Quinn, Callie had said his name was. He was the one who was going to drink her blood because she met his _standards_.

_He doesn't seem so evil_, she thought. Quinn paused on the staircase, clearly expecting an answer. Ariel managed a hasty curtsey and said, "I—um. I was summoned to Timothy's room, except I just . . . don't know where to go?"

"You forget your place," said Quinn, quietly. "Timothy is known as _my lord Timothy_ to you."

Ariel pursed her lips and curtseyed again, biting back a retort. "Of course, sir," she whispered. Then she straightened and hurried up the staircase he was on.

She accidentally bumped him with her shoulder on her way up to the second story of the palace. By habit, she turned around to apologize—and stilled when she saw he was staring at her. His expression wasn't angry. It was just confused. It looked like he was having déjà vu.

"Your eyes," he whispered. Ariel stared at him, also confused.

"I'm sorry?"

Quinn's hand, which had been resting on the wrought-iron handrail, suddenly gripped it so tightly the metal groaned and bent into the shape of his hand. He took his hand away and stared at it like it didn't belong to him.

He looked at Ariel again. "Have I met you before?" he whispered. Ariel backed up another step and shook her head. His mood changes were giving her whiplash.

"No—sir, my lord, whatever, are you feeling all right?"

Quinn didn't say anything. Eyes wide, he looked at the mangled railing and said, "Take a left. Third door on the right is Timothy's room."

Ariel curtseyed and ran up the stairs. Quinn watched her go, then stared back at his hands. Green-gold eyes flashed before his vision, then disappeared.

Taking one last glance at the twisted railing, Quinn went down the stairs, wondering what the _hell_ had just happened.

* * *

Ariel took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. Her heart was beating frantically against her ribs, and her palms were sweaty. _Do it_, she thought. _Don't be a coward. What happened to your sense of adventure?_

So she raised her fist and knocked on the door. Timothy said, "Come in," and she pushed the door open.

Timothy's room was a sophisticated contrast of colors. The carpet was patterned with black-and-white designs, and sheer white curtains hung over the windows in the room. There was a dark wooden desk in the corner, and an easel with a blank canvas.

Timothy was sitting at the desk. He looked up when Ariel stepped inside and didn't move. When he didn't say anything, Ariel cleared her throat and shut the door, saying, "You summoned me?"

"I did."

Ariel waited. Timothy still didn't do anything. "Aren't you going to kill me? You know, suck me dry?"

He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, looking very uncomfortable. "I don't know if I would describe it like that. I don't usually kill to feed. And yes, that's part of the reason why I called you here, but if you're uncomfortable with it, I can always get someone else."

Ariel crossed her arms and glared at him. "What is up with you?" she demanded. Timothy looked up, his brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about?"

"When we first met! You were—evil! You told me you would kill me! And now you won't drink my blood if I'm _uncomfortable with it_? It's giving me a headache! Should I be scared of you or not?"

Timothy stared at her, his eyes swirling a thousand different colors, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred at the moment. "I don't think you should be scared of me," he said at last. "Other vampires—other Night People—I'm not sure I can say the same."

Ariel felt a thrill of fear go through her. So far, the only Night People she'd seen were Timothy, Quinn, Maya and the two shapeshifters who had helped capture her. Was he saying that there were worse Night People than them?

Deciding not to voice her thoughts, Ariel said, "So, if you're not going to suck me dry, what are you going to do?"

Timothy picked up a fan and studied it. It had a beautiful design—blue green, like the ocean. A ribbon of brown wove its way through the fabric, and multicolored stars peppered the pattern throughout. "Do you mind if I paint you?"

Ariel was stunned. Vampires painted? Weren't they too busy, you know, killing people? "Um. Sure?"

Timothy smiled and handed her the fan. "Great. Sit wherever you want, open the fan, and put it over one side of your face."

Ariel sat on the bed and did as he said. He sat at his desk for a long time, sketching her with a pencil, looking up at her every so often. The sun was beginning to set when he smiled, sat back, and said, "Done."

Ariel closed the fan and rose to look, but he hid it from her. "No—I still have to color it in. Can I have the fan back?"

She gave him the fan back. As she turned to go, she noticed his gaze on her—or, more specifically, her neck. A chill ran through her and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She stood in front of the door, hand on the doorknob, ready to go, but something held her back.

_Leave. Stupid stupid stupid. Why aren't you going?_

She turned back to face him and blurted, "You're really thirsty, aren't you?"

Timothy blinked, his eyes going from gold to azure. He didn't even try to deny it. "Yes."

Something was tugging at her, making her feel guilty. Ariel sighed and went back to the bed, unable to believe what she was about to do. She sat down and stretched out her arm. "Here."

Timothy stared at her, then scooted the chair closer. He grabbed her wrist gently, as if he was afraid she would change her mind and leave, and looked back up at her, raising an eyebrow. She pursed her lips and nodded, closing her eyes.

_Hey, if it didn't hurt last time, it won't hurt this time, right?_

There was still a sharp sting when Timothy bit her, but afterwards, it felt like a pressure being released. A warm feeling began to blossom in Ariel's chest, and she bit her cheek to keep from smiling. What was _up_ with her?

Finally, Timothy pulled away, and the warm feeling immediately disappeared. His eyes were a warm green. "Thanks," he said. Ariel flexed her arm and winced at the soreness in her arm. When she looked back at him, his eyes were still on her.

_He's still a vampire. A Night Person. They're going to kill Aradia—remember? And you just let him drink your blood._

Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered her mother's predicament, and she stood up quickly. "I—I have to go," she told him, turning around and walking quickly for the door.

Timothy stood up. "Ariel, wait—"

Ariel flung the door open and broke into a run. Timothy didn't try to chase after her. When she entered the servants' quarters, she pulled the curtain away and ran up the stairs.

No one was in the bath. Ariel quickly undressed and got into the water, grabbing a bar of soap and a washrag. When she was in the bath, she began to scrub at her skin.

She rubbed furiously at every inch of skin Timothy had touched until it was a bright pink and the memory of his touch had faded.


	5. chapter v

I hope y'all had a happy Christmas! Wishing you a great new year as well. Here's the new chapter - don't forget to tell me what you think! :)

* * *

**saints & sinners  
****chapter v**

* * *

_June 27, 2016. Ariel has gotten the hang of the layout of Eris. With Tora and Iona's help, she's ready to break Aradia out of her prison and return to the Dark Kingdom. But the question is—is Aradia?_

* * *

Tora held a finger up to her lips. They were in the prisons of Eris, at the south exit—the closest to Block 22, where Aradia was. "Now, remember. I'll draw out the guards in the cell. When they pass you, be as quiet as you can. I'll try to talk over you, but if they see or hear you, you're gone. Do you have it?"

Ariel held up the hairpin Denise had given her for that purpose and nodded. "I also remember how to pick the lock. Aradia will be out in no time."

Tora nodded and stepped out behind the curtain, closing it behind her. "Don't move until you're sure we're gone, remember."

With that, she was gone. Ariel squatted down and waited. A few minutes passed, and suddenly two shapes were passing by in front of her. Tora was talking about someone named Gillian having to be taken in so that Maya could question her. When the sound of her voice became faint, Ariel stood up and stepped out behind the curtain.

She could still see Tora, but she was at least a hundred feet away from her. They wouldn't be getting to her anytime soon. She stole across the hall and went down the stairs. She stopped at the door labeled 22 and opened the door as quietly as she could, stepping inside.

There was a wooden table on the right side, with a candles being the only source of light in the entire room. On the left were three small cells, sectioned off by varying colored bars: silver, black, brown. Aradia was in the middle one, the one with the black bars holding her in.

Ariel let go of the door handle and stepped inside. The door shut with a small thump, and she froze. Had it been loud enough for the shapeshifters to hear it?

A few seconds passed, but no feral wolf came charging through the door. Ariel exhaled a sigh of relief and looked up to see Aradia looking at her, a small frown on her face.

"Ariel?"

"Mom!" whispered Ariel, going to the front of the door and kneeling in front of it. She took the hairpin out of her hair and pushed it inside the lock shakily. "Look, I'm going to get you out of here, okay? I have maps and everything. Once this door opens, we'll be able to get out and go back to Washington."

Aradia was silent.

Ariel looked at the door fearfully and jangled the hairpin another time. It wiggled, but otherwise didn't move. "Come on," she whispered, trying to take it out. The hairpin didn't move that time either. It was stuck.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a man with golden eyes and brown hair strode in. His gaze fell on Ariel immediately, and he snarled. Ariel screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"What is it?" asked Tora from somewhere behind him. The man crouched down, his pupils growing larger. Ariel could see hair growing on his arms and on his face, and her horror grew. He was changing—right here, in the prisons!

"There's a slave here," he said, his voice raspy and guttural. He turned to Tora to continue speaking. "Go tell Maya we have a Daybreaker. I'll deal with her."

Tora looked calmly at him, and for a moment, Ariel thought she would listen to him. But she surprised them both by grabbing his head and slamming it into the silver bars in front of him. Another shriek ripped itself from Ariel's throat, and she pressed up against the iron bars to get away from the hairy corpse. "Did you kill him?" she managed.

Tora sneered at the body. "_I'm_ Captain of the Guard." She looked up at Ariel, her golden eyes cold. "No, he's not dead. I suggest you find a place to hide. He'll be waking up soon."

Ariel took one last look at Aradia, who was getting to her feet. "But—"

"Go, Ariel," said Aradia. She didn't look disturbed at all. In fact, she looked—relieved?

Ariel jumped to her feet and ran out, her heart hammering against her ribs. Where was the south exit? Everything looked the same here, and someone had blown out all the candles in the hall. How many stairs had she gone down?

She blindly climbed up the stairs, pressing her hand to the rocky interior wall of the mountain to keep track of where she was. Water dripped from the ceiling onto her head, and the only sound seemed to be her breathing.

A door opened somewhere behind her, and she broke into a run. The temperature dropped as she went up, but she didn't care, so long as she got away.

She saw whiteness under one of the curtains and opened it. Howling wind and swirling snow blasted her in the face. Even her warm uniform was nothing for the numbing cold outside. Ariel stepped back and turned away, wiping the snow off of her face and starting to shiver.

_I'm too far up._

But there was someone chasing after her—she didn't have time to go back to the south exit. She turned to the other curtain, distinguished by yellow light underneath it, and pushed it open. The only thing there to greet her was a glistening stone staircase.

Ariel glanced back over her shoulder and went up. The staircase only went up one flight, and the entrance to that floor was a heavy wooden door. She pulled it open and stepped inside, turning to the first door she saw in the hall and entering the room. She whirled around and slammed the door shut behind her, sinking to the floor and sighing in relief.

A single growl made her turn around. The electric light from the hallway streamed in from the window in the door, allowing Ariel to see that she was sharing a room with three fully-grown, if not malformed, lions.

Another one growled and got to its feet. Ariel bit back a scream and closed her eyes as a shadow passed over the window. One of the lions brushed up against her, and she opened her eyes to look straight at it.

If you asked her today, Ariel probably would've told you she had no idea why she had grabbed for the lion's golden fur. Perhaps a voice inside was telling her to. Perhaps it was survival instinct. Perhaps she was trying to keep the lion from mauling her.

Nonetheless, she reached for the lion and grabbed a handful of its fur, and a pins-and-needles sensation erupted all across her body. Her eyes darkened and seemed to glow red. Blood roared in her ears as images flashed through her mind—images of skeletons, claws and fangs, gold fur and a tail. Every image pieced together to form a single shape. A pain began to build up in her head and she closed her eyes, an unbidden scream rising up in her throat.

Clothes ripped. Hair sprouted up and a tail sprung free. Bones cracked and shifted into place. Certain colors faded to gray, and suddenly Ariel was stumbling around on all fours.

She tried to scream again, but the only sound that came out was a choked, coughing catlike yell. The door burst open and someone stepped inside. Electric light poured in, revealing Tora's tall, disciplined frame.

"Ariel?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Ariel yelped and crashed into the wall. The other lions had huddled together and were watching Ariel with blank fascination, as if they had nothing better to do. Tora's gaze fell on the ripped clothes, then went to Ariel, and her expression became one of abject horror. "_Ariel!_"

Ariel steadied herself and stayed still, adjusting to the feeling of standing on four legs. Then she turned and walked toward Tora, butting her head against her knee. But even that was enough to send her off-balance again.

"I'll help you become human again, don't worry," said Tora, crouching down so that she was eye-level with the young shapeshifter. "Now this might hurt a little, but you'll become human soon, okay?"

Ariel waited, and Tora stood up and untucked her T-shirt. She pulled it over her head, revealing another shirt underneath, and draped it over Ariel's back. "That's for you. After this, I'm taking you back to the servants' quarters. Aradia wiped the memory of the guard, so you won't get in trouble.

"Now, Ariel, listen to me. I want you to relax. Close your eyes. Imagine yourself as a human. Think of what it's like standing on two feet, what it's like to speak. Imagine yourself as a human."

As she was speaking, her fingers were running over Ariel's body: poking pressure points that retracted her claws and made her immobile. Ariel closed her eyes and listened to Tora's voice, forcing herself to breathe slowly and steadily.

As she concentrated, she could feel her body changing. It felt like something was plucking at her skin as her fur melted into human flesh, and there was an odd sucking sound as her tail shriveled up. Cold pierced her hands as her fingers thinned and lengthened. Colors returned to her eyesight.

In just a few moments, she was lying on the floor, naked and freezing. Teeth chattering, Ariel grabbed Tora's extra shirt and pulled it over her head. When she was fully covered, Tora picked her up bridal style.

Ariel looked at her ripped clothes and burrowed closer to Tora's warmth. "What just happened to me?" she whispered. Tora stepped out of the lions' room and shut the door with her foot, looking down at her with narrowed golden eyes.

"That's what we're about to find out."

* * *

They managed to get to the slave quarters without anyone seeing them. Tora burst through the entrance, causing everyone in the room to look up quickly. "I need to speak with you," she said, nodding at the still-shivering Ariel in her arms.

Iona jumped up and almost ran to her room. "In here," she said. Tora entered the room and set Ariel down on the bed. Iona closed the door behind her, leaving a little sliver of light left so that she could see, and went to the dresser. "Tora, could you turn on the lights?"

Tora turned on the lights as Iona got Ariel new clothes. "What happened?" asked Iona, without missing a beat. "Was she ra—"

"No," Tora interrupted. "We tried to break Aradia out today."

Iona paused and held the clothes to her chest, gaping. "What?" she asked, turning around. "What _happened_?"

She handed the clothes to Ariel, who went into the closet to change, and sat on the bed to face Tora. "The guard caught Ariel. I told her to run, and she did. But the guard had turned off the lights, and she got lost, and ended up in the zoo. She didn't know Aradia had wiped the memory of the guard, so I went after her to tell her she was safe. She panicked and hid in the lions' den—and when I went in there, there was a fourth lion, stumbling around, with Ariel's clothes scattered around the room."

"How did she turn into a lion? For God's sake—"

Ariel stepped out of the closet, safely dressed in fuzzy pajamas, and froze. Someone was standing in front of the door, listening in. Tora wasn't facing the door, so she didn't see it, and Iona was focused on the shapeshifter.

Just as she was about to mention something, Tora said, "She's a _shapeshifter_, Iona. A Night Person. One of us."

"I am _not_ one of you!" Ariel shouted, getting their attention. The shadow behind the door disappeared. Ariel wasn't paying attention anymore. "What happened—that was—"

"You took a form," said Tora, narrowing her eyes into slits. "Before tonight, you smelled like a human, more or less. But now, it will be clear to any shapeshifter who sees you that you're a shapeshifter—a race that is considered a part of the Night World, whether you like it or not."

Ariel frowned. "Shapeshifters take their form at birth. No one can choose their form. Thus, I'm not a shapeshifter."

Tora straightened as realization dawned on her. "I see it now," she murmured.

"What?"

She clenched her jaw. "Nothing. There are . . . certain exceptions to that rule."

Ariel suddenly found herself very, very tired. She walked forward and shoved Tora's shirt into her hands. "Look. I'm not _anything_. I was perfectly normal until I got kidnapped. Let's just forget this thing ever happened, okay? We can try to free Aradia again tomorrow. But right now, I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," said Tora. Iona looked at her sharply and stood up.

"Tora, come with me," she said, and they went outside to discuss the day's events further.

Ariel closed her eyes, burrowed underneath the covers, and fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

_But that sleep is not to last. Callie McFadden has always been too curious for her own good. Plus, her parents were murdered by a band of Night People, and she hates them with a burning passion. _

_As soon as she hears Tora say that Ariel is a shapeshifter, she goes straight to Maya._

* * *

Someone shook Ariel awake. "Whassit?" she muttered, rolling on to her side. Someone shook her again, and she peered up at the person. Iona was holding a candle up, her face white and drawn. She looked terrified.

"Maya has summoned you to the throne room," she said. "Get dressed, hurry!"

Ariel sat up, suddenly wide awake. She rolled out of the bed and started changing. Iona was tapping her foot, looking around, biting her lip. When Ariel had put on her flats, she grabbed her wrist and led her out of the servants' quarters.

"Why does she want to talk to me?" she whispered, rubbing at her eyes.

"Shh. The halls have ears," replied Iona. But she soon slowed and walked side-by-side with her. "Someone told her about you being a shapeshifter."

Ariel's eyes widened, and she was too surprised to protest Iona's terminology. "Tora told her? But you said—"

"Not Tora," said Iona, turning a corner in the hall. They were now in the giant entrance hall. In between the staircases was a large glass door. This was where Iona took her, and she opened the door as she said, "Someone else."

Blood roaring in her ears, palms sweaty, Ariel stepped inside. Iona followed her, shut the door, and extinguished the candle. "My Queen, I have brought Ariel to you."

Maya was standing in front of the hearth on the right, looking frighteningly beautiful. Her hair was gathered on the top of her head, and her strapless, ankle-length dress shimmered silver in the fluorescent light. At the sound of Iona's voice, she looked up, and her eyes were a bright blue.

"Ah, but you should probably be calling her lady Ariel now, should you not?" she said softly. Iona smiled and curtseyed to Ariel.

"I apologize, my lady. I did not mean to offend."

Ariel stared at Iona, confused. Maya laughed and walked toward her, raising her arms as if she expected a hug. "Ariel and I must talk alone, herald."

Iona curtseyed and left. As soon as she was gone, Ariel felt cold, and she turned to face the vampire queen. But Maya was no longer smiling. She crossed her arms and said, "So. How is it we just now realize that you're a shapeshifter? And why didn't you speak up about it earlier?"

Ariel was silent. Maya drew closer and started circling her. "Answer me, Ariel."

"I—I didn't know."

Her answer made Maya laugh. "How could you _not know_? No shapeshifter doesn't _know_ they're a shapeshifter."

Ariel lifted her head and glared at her, balling her hands into fists. "I don't want to be a shapeshifter," she hissed. "Shapeshifters are Night People. Night People are _monsters_. I don't want to be a monster!"

Maya was silent, and her eyes switched from blue to gray so quickly Ariel thought she had imagined it. It was quiet for a long while, the only sound the buzzing of the electric lights and the crackling of the hearth. Ariel could feel her heart pounding and swallowed, awaiting the vampire queen's answer.

Softly, Maya said, "I don't think you realize just how special you are, Ariel. I don't think you understand just how good your life can be under my rule." A slow smile spread across her face. "Well, I guess we'll just have to fix that. Do you know what ghettos are, Ariel?"

Ariel shook her head, suddenly nauseous. Maya drew closer and narrowed her eyes. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough. You can see what I've done for you when you live in the ghetto for a while. Pack your bags."

"What—now?"

"It's seven in the morning. I think that's a perfectly reasonable time. Yes, now. You won't come back until you're rehabilitated. Send that herald in here, will you?"

Ariel opened the door numbly. Iona saw her face and went inside the room at once, giving a short curtsey. "Yes, my Queen?"

Maya went to her throne and returned with a suitcase. She handed it to Iona, who curtseyed again before taking it. "Take Ariel back to her room. She's going to be rehabilitated at the Salt Lake ghetto. As soon as she's done packing, bring her back here."

Iona's dark eyes went to Ariel once, but she curtseyed again. "Yes, my Queen. My lady, please, follow me."

They left the throne room in stunned silence. As soon as the door closed behind them, Iona said, "The Salt Lake isn't so bad. I hear it's one of the nicest ghettos. You know, compared to London or Washington."

Ariel felt like her head was stuffed with cotton balls. "Why is it nicer than others?"

"Something about the leadership there. Two women head everything. The Night People leave them alone, as long as they don't try to escape the boundaries." When they turned a corner, Iona handed her the suitcase and gave her a pleading look. "Please, Ariel, take this and go to your room to pack. I'm going to go talk to Tora. Hopefully she can give you some of her clothes."

Ariel took the suitcase and furrowed her brow. "Why do I need Tora's clothes?"

"Tora's a shapeshifter, and she wears clothes made out of shapeshifter hair. If you change while wearing shapeshifter hair, the clothes shift with you, and when you turn back into a human, you'll still be wearing your clothes. So if she gives you something to wear, you'll be able to keep it. Now, go!"

Ariel left. The only thought on her mind was—_how can I save Aradia if I'm in the Salt Lake?_

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the suitcase was stuffed with clothes made from the hides of shapeshifters, and she was standing in front of Maya and Quinn in the throne room. Iona had, once more, been dismissed.

Maya smiled at Ariel once. "I do hope you enjoy your stay at the Salt Lake. Quinn, take her to the station."

Quinn nodded, then took Ariel by the arm. "Ariel, please, follow me."

Seeing no other choice, Ariel grabbed her suitcase and followed him to the far corner of the room. A narrow wooden door was wide open, and Quinn went down the stone staircase. Ariel shut the door behind her and followed suit.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness about halfway down. Quinn was silent as he went down the steps. He looked distracted. _Maybe if I knock him out with my suitcase, I can get away,_ she thought, pursing her lips.

As if he had read her mind, he said, "Even though you're a Night Person, I have centuries on you in experience. Don't try anything stupid."

Ariel stopped making getaway plans.

He led her all the way to the inner base of the mountain. She could smell the burning coal before she saw the train. Quinn reached the bottom of the steps and held it open for her. "Have fun," he said. She turned around to give him one last look.

"Why do you help her?"

He had been closing the door, but he opened it again when she spoke. His eyes were flat and he looked like he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in weeks. "Who?"

"Maya."

His black eyes hardened. "She saved me from the Daybreakers. I owe her my life. You would do well to pick your sides carefully, kid."

With that, he shut the door in her face. Ariel was left standing with a single suitcase, staring at the wooden door that led back to Eris. The train behind her whistled, and she turned around. People were swarming the platforms, and one werewolf saw her. "Get on the train," he shouted.

Ariel went inside the train and sat down, staring out the window, silent. There were five other people in her carriage. After a long moment, the train let out another whistle, and a crackling voice announced from hidden speakers: "We are leaving the station. Next stop: Salt Lake City ghetto."

And as the train pulled away from the mountains, Ariel, staring at the darkness inside, found that she hated the night more than ever.

It was two hours before the train pulled to a stop. The sky was darkening as the sun began to set. Ariel hadn't been able to sleep at all.

"We have arrived at the Salt Lake City ghetto. Please exit the train if this is your stop."

Ariel grabbed her suitcase and stood up. A werewolf opened the door for her, and she stepped out onto the platform and looked around. The train station's ceiling was made out of glass and supported by marble pillars.

She was the only still person in the bustling room.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm. She snapped out of her trance and looked up into the face of a sneering raven-shifter. "What are ya doin'?" he yelled.

Ariel tightened her hold on her suitcase. "I was sent from Eris, to here," she replied.

He laughed and started steering her away. "No problem," he said. When they reached the entrance, he opened a glass door and shoved her outside. Ariel stumbled and caught herself on the concrete stairs.

Her hands and knees stung from their scrapes. Ariel blinked the tears of pain away and stood up, grabbing her suitcase again. _Think of this as another adventure_, she told herself. _An adventure to get out of here and find Aradia again._

Salt Lake City's horizon was bathed in a dark purple light as the sun set, and she could see several mountains towering in the distance. _Eris is on one of those mountains_, she thought. _Aradia's somewhere in that mountain range._

Ariel picked up her suitcase, went down the stairs, and began to walk. No one gave her a passing look. She wandered down the street, taking note of her surroundings. Tall birch trees lined the streets. Groups of people huddled in front of buildings, some of which had ivy growing on them, and some whose windows were boarded up.

_If this is the nicest of the ghettos_, she thought, _I'd hate to see the worst._

Ariel wandered until she saw a parking lot with two hoops on opposite sides. There was a group of people sitting there, but they weren't doing anything. She was about to move on when someone saw her and called out, "Hey, you new here?"

Ariel stopped and set the suitcase down. "Yes."

The people stood up and approached her. None of them were Night People. "Hey, you're a pretty little thing," said one—a teenage boy with a bright smile. Ariel relaxed and smiled back. He joined her side and put an arm around her shoulders, making her flinch away. He tightened his grip on her shoulder and said, "How about we show you around, huh?"

"Uh—sure."

He looked down and smiled at her. "Awesome. All you have to do, babe, is one little thing—"

"Kent, I do hope you're not recruiting for Skyhawk, right?" a voice called.

The boy sprung away from Ariel like he'd been burned. Everyone actually took a step back. "No, of course not," Kent muttered, flushing.

Ariel turned around to see two women staring at them, arms crossed. One was a woman with tanned skin and black hair; the other was a blonde with green eyes. "Good. Don't worry, we'll show the new arrival around," said Blondie.

When the group didn't move, the other added, "Get lost."

The group turned and walked away, muttering sullenly under their breaths. Blondie turned to Ariel and smiled.

"Hey. That's Nyala Pawar, and I'm Rosamund Ross. Are you new here?"


	6. chapter vi

**saints & sinners  
****chapter vi:  
**_(The Lost Family)_

* * *

Ariel was stunned. "Yes. I am."

Rosamund stepped forward and picked up Ariel's suitcase. "You're lucky we found you when we did. Skyhawk probably would have made you do something stupid, like try to assassinate a Night Person."

"What's Skyhawk?"

"A gang," said Nyala, rolling her eyes. "They aren't a threat . . . yet. Their main purpose is to look cool and try to kill Night People. They're a bunch of pests."

Rosamund chuckled. "But don't worry, you won't have to deal with them again. Are you hungry? We were going to make some lunch when we got back from the train station. You're welcome to join us."

Ariel paused to consider, then nodded. "Sure. It's not like I have any other place to go."

Rosamund stopped and furrowed her brow, exchanging a look with Nyala. "Don't you have some relatives you can live with?" she asked, turning around. Ariel shook her head.

"Then where are you from?" asked Nyala. Ariel gestured to her uniform.

"Eris," she said. Nyala raised an eyebrow, and she continued, "Maya wanted to rehabilitate me."

"So you don't have anywhere to go?" asked Rosamund, shaking her head. "Right. Well. Nyala, do you think she could stay with us until she finds her footing?"

"Sure. We have lots of space in our apartment."

Rosamund grinned, and they started walking down the street. "Don't worry, kiddo. You'll get used to this place in no time."

Ariel looked at the overgrown buildings and the depressed-looking people milling about in front of the stores. _I don't think so_, she thought, but didn't say anything.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached a redbrick building with a sign in front of it saying Oakbrook Apartments. Nyala opened the door and they stepped into the lobby.

The lobby had dark wooden floors with pale blue-and-white walls and brick pillars. Nyala led them over to the stairwell—"Our elevator hasn't worked since 2008," she explained—and they went up five flights of stairs. They finally came to a stop in front of Apartment 510. Nyala put a card in front of the scanner. It made a little beep, and the red light above it turned green. Nyala twisted the door and it swung open. "Home sweet home," she announced.

The apartment was an open space with brick pillars and windows everywhere, allowing what little light there was inside. The walls alternated between dark green and white paint, and the floors were hardwood.

On Ariel's immediate right was a kitchen area, consisting of a small fridge, a stove, and island countertops. On the left was an open area with pale green couches and bookshelves. A hallway stretched in front of her and ended with three doors.

Rosamund went over to the kitchen area and put the suitcase on the island counter. "Why don't you go pick your bed—the spare room's the one with the two twin beds—and I'll start making lunch, okay?"

Ariel found the room with the twin beds and deposited her suitcase on one of them. When she came back, Rosamund was whisking something in a bowl, her back to them, and Nyala was sitting on one of the barstools at the island counter. Nyala turned around at Ariel's approach and gave her a small smile. "So, I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves," she said. "You know who we are, but we don't know who you are. What's your name?"

Ariel pursed her lips and sat on one of the barstools. "I'm Ariel Crowley," she said.

Something crashed on the ground, making both Ariel and Nyala start. Rosamund was standing ramrod straight, and the bowl was in pieces at her feet. Nyala cursed and got up. "What happened?"

Rosamund turned around, her eyes wide. "Nothing," she whispered, staring right at Ariel. "It slipped. I'm—I'm sorry."

Nyala bent down and helped her pick up the pieces of broken glass. When the bowl had been deposited in the trashcan, Rosamund got out a new bowl, and Nyala sat back on the barstool and faced Ariel.

"Since you're new here, I'm going to tell you what to expect. The city might seem big, but we have borders. An electric fence topped with barbed wire keeps us in. But as long as you don't provoke the guards or the Night People and you keep your head down, you should be fine.

"Here we have a few restaurants, a park, apartment buildings, a theater, two schools and a hospital, as well as a working bus transportation system. Our facilities are what make this ghetto one of the best places to live in." Nyala paused briefly to smirk. "That's thanks to Rosamund and I, of course. We're the leaders here. We have a few problems—like Skyhawk and the Hunts—but other than that. . . ."

"Hunts?"

"Oh. Right." Nyala shook her head. "Sometimes, when the ghettos get too crowded, the Night People in charge order a Hunt. Basically, it's a massacre. The Night People gather in the center of the ghetto. The moment the sun goes down, they're free to drink as much blood or eat as much flesh as they want—at least until the sun comes up. Then the Hunt ends, the Night People leave, and the ghetto's survivors are left to pick up the pieces."

A wave of nausea hit Ariel once again. "That's horrific."

Nyala rolled her eyes. "That's Night People. They do things like that."

"Don't worry, though," interjected Rosamund, seeing Ariel's expression. "Salt Lake has only about ten thousand people. We haven't had a Hunt since the ghetto was created. I doubt we're about to have one now. Besides, we have hiding places and weapons in case that happens. Salt Lake's pretty safe."

Ariel swallowed and looked down at the marble countertop. _How can I be a Night Person?_ she thought. _I can't be a part of them. They're too cruel._

"Ariel," said Rosamund, softly. Ariel looked up and saw her smiling softly at her. "I know you're probably tired. If you'd like, you can go to bed. We won't disturb you. Make yourself at home, okay?"

There were tears in her eyes, for some reason. Ariel ignored that and smiled back, getting up. "Thanks, Rosamund," she said, turning around. "Goodnight."

The sun had set by the time she changed into her pajamas, and she flicked on a light switch so she could see better. The walls of the room were a teal color, and the carpet was silver. Green and white accents highlighted the room, and there was a white end table between the two beds. A blue dresser was pushed up against the wall next to the door. But what caught Ariel's eye was the outlined rectangle on the ceiling. A single black thread dangled from it.

_The attic? I wonder what's up there?_

Her adventuring side kicked in before common sense did, and she reached up and tugged on the black string. The rectangle gave out and a narrow staircase fell to the floor with a small crash.

Ariel winced at the noise and waited for someone to open the door and ask what was going on. But no one did. Maybe they were already sleeping. Ariel waited a few more seconds, then started up the stairs into the attic.

The attic was musty and smelled of mothballs, as most attics did. Ariel's eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, however. She could make out an old lamp sitting on the edge of a termite-eaten desk, and she went over to flick it on. The bulb hummed and flickered, but after a few minutes of wavering, it became a constant, soft light.

Ariel began to look at her surroundings. It was rather sparse; there were only a few boxes pushed at the back. But there was a box in front of the main pile that read, "Memories," and that was the one that got her attention.

She went to the box and opened it. The first thing she saw was a chipped white-and-pink box. She took it out and opened it up. It had dividers that outlined various empty sections, and there was a small mirror on the underside of the lid. But what really grabbed her attention was the small ballerina that stood up in the middle of the box.

Ariel turned it over and saw a small, oval-shaped golden knob. She twisted it, causing the box to make a squeaky sound. She was so surprised that she let go of the knob, and soft music began to play from hidden speakers in the box. Then she looked over the edge of the "Memories" box once more.

The ballerina box had been sitting on an aged book with a red leather cover, its corners worn and parts of the pages torn. It looked like some kind of photo album.

Ariel opened to the first page and stilled. The first picture was a young girl with dark eyes, black hair, and a gentle smile. A young man with pale hair and dark eyes was next to her, his gaze never leaving her face. At the bottom of a corner of the page was _Ash & Mare, February '00. By Roz._On the top corner was a picture of the two so that the viewer would be able to see what the people really looked like.

The next page was of the same man, but with a different girl. She had the same dark hair, but her eyes were a lighter color, and she wore a mischievous smirk. The man was smiling slightly, but there were circles under his eyes, and she got the distinct impression of sadness just by looking at him. A picture was taped to the same upper corner, and the caption read _Ash & Blaise, November '00. By Roz._

_Who is Roz?_ wondered Ariel, flipping past pages. She saw drawings of people named Jez, Iliana, Thierry and Hannah, Rashel and Selene. While all of the people looked happy in the drawings, none of them were smiling in their photos.

A strange feeling of nostalgia settled in over Ariel, and she stared hard at a portrait of a man named John Quinn. She had seen that vampire before—in Maya's palace at Eris. What was _he_doing in Roz's scrapbook?

She frowned and flipped through pages until she stopped at a beautiful watercolor painting. It was of a young woman with dark blonde hair, soft brown eyes, and a bright smile. A white flower was pinned in her hair, and she wore a necklace with a golden ring on a chain. The painting made her look radiant. Ariel's mood was lifted just by looking at it.

She looked in the corner for the caption, which read: _"The Angel" _— _for Eric. From Roz._

The Angel. She flipped back to the page containing a photo of all of the "Daybreakers" (as the picture's title said) and found the woman in the picture. She was number 13. Ariel looked to the corresponding list of numbers and found her name.

"Thea Harman," she mused. "Who's Eric?"

The ballerina music had stopped playing. She took a break to twist the knob again, then returned to the scrapbook. She moved on to the pages near the end of the scrapbook and stopped at a picture.

It was a sketch of a young woman wearing a hospital robe and holding an infant, the widest smile on her face. She had wild black hair and light-colored eyes. A man was sitting next to her, looking down at the baby with equal pride. He had curly hair and darker eyes than the woman. Ariel looked at the caption before she looked at the picture, and her blood ran cold.

_Ariel Lynnette Drache. August 1, '01. By Roz._

Aradia sometimes called her Ariel Lynnette when she went out to explore the woods after she'd told her not to, but—no, it was impossible. The Draches had been shapeshifter royalty before the war, Aradia told her. And all of them were dead. No exceptions.

Ariel dropped the scrapbook and hugged herself. She didn't bother to restart the ballerina song when it ended. She just stared at the drawing of a baby named Ariel Lynnette Drache, and the woman who was presumably her mother.

She looked at the picture, then, and carefully pried the tape away and took it out of the photo album. Using it as a bookmark, she flipped back to the page containing the picture of all these Daybreakers.

Her supposed parents—the Draches—were in the very front. Her mother was holding her swollen stomach, and both were smiling. She looked up their names and put her finger on the faded words. "Galen Drache," she whispered into the darkness. The lamplight flickered once, went out, and then sputtered back to life. "Raksha Keller Drache."

Galen and Raksha. Her parents. Her _real _parents.

Ariel closed the photo album and took the picture of her parents out. The stairs from the attic's entrance creaked, and Rosamund's face popped out of the rectangle in the floor. "Ariel?" she whispered.

Ariel didn't look away from the picture. "Over here."

It took Rosamund a few seconds to reach her side, but when she did, and when she saw what Ariel was looking at, her face crumpled. She knelt beside her and sighed.

"Who are these people?" Ariel muttered.

Rosamund gave her a half-hearted smile. "Those two are Galen and Raksha Drache, the King and Queen of the First House of Shapeshifters. Otherwise known as your parents."

Ariel swallowed. She felt dizzy, and the dust was beginning to mess up her breathing. "How do you know who they are?"

"I was close friends with them. We lived in the same . . . neighborhood, if you will. When the War was heating up, around winter 2001, Keller asked me to take you to Nebraska. I took care of you for a year. Then I was relocated to the Salt Lake, and I gave you to Aradia. She was somewhere safe then."

"So you knew—that I was a shapeshifter? Aradia did, too?"

"Yes. Both of us did."

Ariel didn't say anything. As hard as she tried, the tears wouldn't come. She just sat on the dusty attic floor, holding the picture of her parents, longing for memories she would never have. "I always thought I was a human until—never mind. Aradia never told me. She _never told me_."

"She had a good reason," said Rosamund. "You inherited your father's ability to choose your shape. Your lack of another form muddled your scent, so you could pass off as a human. If you had a shape, you would have been recognized and killed right away."

Ariel pulled the photo album onto her lap and started flipping through the pages with such a force she almost ripped some of them. "These are the Daybreakers," she said. "Aradia and Iona told me about them. They were resistance fighters and they were against Maya during the War."

Rosamund's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Iona, and she stopped turning the screw on the bottom of the ballerina box. "That's right," she said, setting it down. "You know, this was going to be yours. Back when Keller first discovered she was pregnant, we had a chance of winning. Then San Francisco—anyway, your father bought this for your nursery."

Ariel stared at the chipped ballerina box for a long while. Then she tore her gaze away and opened to the portrait of Thea Harman, staring at that instead. "You're one of them, I bet," she whispered. "A Daybreaker. You're Roz, aren't you?"

Roz watched the ballerina twirl in slow circles. "I am," she said, and then she saw what page Ariel was on. Her eyes became glassy. "That was Thea. My sister-in-law."

"She's dead?"

"Yes." She bit her lip, and Ariel saw her cheeks glistening in the lamplight. "Eric is my brother. When she died, he wouldn't stop thinking about her. I told him he needed to get on without her. I told him he needed to forget her, so he could move on with his life. He never forgave me." She shook her head. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to make it up to him."

Ariel swallowed. Seeing Roz cry made her own eyes water, and she looked down at the portrait to hide her face. "Could you . . . tell me about my family?"

Roz shook her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I'll tell you about your family when you're ready, kiddo," she said, sniffing. Her nose was red, and she wiped it on her other sleeve. "But it's late. We should be going to bed."

Ariel bit her lip and hid her disappointment by resetting the ballerina box when it stopped playing. "Could we at least look at your drawings?" she asked. Rosamund stared at her for a long while, her expression solemn, a slight frown marring her face.

Finally, she scooted closer to her niece and took the book from her hands. "I haven't drawn since I was sixteen," she muttered, flipping through the pages. She finally landed on one of a pretty woman with light-colored hair and equally light eyes, and said, "This is Hannah Snow. . . ."

She told stories of the Daybreakers to Ariel for a long while. But eventually, Ariel's soft, even breathing made her stop and glance down at her niece. Her dark hair was pulled back into a frizzy ponytail, and her eyes were closed. Rosamund smiled and stood up, putting the photo album in her niece's arms, using the picture of Keller and Galen as a bookmark. She went downstairs, got a blanket, and wrapped her in it.

Ariel stirred, but didn't wake up, which made Roz smile. She was still a heavy sleeper. That was good. She bent down, prepared herself, and managed to pick her up bridal-style, before carrying her down the stairs and into her room. She put her on her bed, pried the scrapbook from her hands, and pulled back the covers before throwing them over her. She put the scrapbook on the end table next to the bed and smiled, shaking her head. She'd forgotten all about that thing.

She turned to go, but something made her stop and look back at her. Ariel was sleeping soundly, but Rosamund went toward her anyway. She smoothed her niece's bangs away from her forehead and bent down, her lips hovering over Ariel's forehead.

After a moment's hesitation, she kissed her niece's forehead and straightened, tucking her in. "Goodnight, Ariel," she whispered. As she left, she could have sworn she saw Ariel smile in her sleep.

* * *

Ariel, meanwhile, was having a very strange dream.

She was sitting on the edge of a cliff. Someone was sitting next to her. Waves crashed from below, seagulls screamed, and the stars twinkled up in the night sky. However, the horizon across the ocean was orange, signifying that a sunrise would soon occur.

Ariel looked out of the corner of her eye to make out her companion's features. She was a tall, elegant woman, with a chiseled face and the inhuman beauty all Night People seemed to possess.

The woman twisted to face her, revealing shockingly vibrant golden eyes. There was almost something predatory about them—a quality that reminded Ariel of the vampires back at Eris. Recently, she might have shrunk away from the woman. But she had no desire to do so now. She raised an eyebrow at the woman, who smirked.

"Hey, kid," she said.

Ariel stared at her. "Do I know you?"

The woman shook out her dark hair and laughed. "Know me? No. Not yet. But you will."

Ariel furrowed her brow. "I don't think so."

The woman's grin grew wider, and she pulled something out of her pocket. The necklace sparkled gold in the rising sunlight, and Ariel took it from her to examine it more closely. It was a simple necklace, with a gold chain, and a purple stone as the only jewel.

"Keep it," said the woman when Ariel tried to give it back to her. "You're going to need it."

Ariel tilted her head. "Who are you?"

The woman's smile vanished, and she looked out over the sea, into the sunset. "My name is Valencia. I'm here to help you."

Ariel blinked and held the necklace in her lap. "Help me? With what?"

Valencia shook her head. "That vampire. Maya. She's been alive far too long. It's time for the shapeshifters to rule once more." Her golden eyes locked on hers, and she smirked—an expression that made Ariel shiver. "You'll be my successor, of course. You're my closest heir. You're a Drache."

"I didn't even know I was a shapeshifter until yesterday!" complained Ariel, looking down at the necklace. "And what's this thing for, anyway? Why do you want me to have it?"

Valencia stood up and knelt at Ariel's side, squeezing her shoulder. "It's a way to talk to me. Trust me, kiddo, we're going to talk again—and soon. Just put that necklace on whenever you want to talk to me."

The sun was slowly rising, coloring everything orange, gold, pink and scarlet. Sea foam sprayed Ariel's face, and a small breeze started. Valencia's golden eyes gleamed like a cat's at night, and when she smiled, Ariel could see a fang. "The Old Powers have awakened," she said, looking at Ariel as she said it. "The Draches will return."

She stood up and turned to go. "Wait!" cried Ariel, twisting around. Valencia half-turned, a strange half-smile on her face. "None of this is real, right? Because I am _definitely _dreaming."

Valencia winked. "This might be a dream, but who said it wasn't real?"

She turned and walked into the forest. Ariel was left on the cliffs, clutching the amethyst necklace in her hands, utterly stunned. She sat there, wind battering her face and sea foam stinging her eyes, until the stars entirely disappeared and there was nothing left of the sea.

When Ariel woke up, the purple necklace was sitting on top of Rosamund's scrapbook.

She picked it up and stared at it for a few moments. The purple stone seemed to glow with its own sort of light, and it felt as light as a feather in her hand. _Creepy._

Setting the necklace back down on the scrapbook, she got out of the bed and changed into different clothes, checking herself quickly in the mirror before opening the door and going out to the main room.

Nyala and Rosamund were already in the kitchenette, eating cereal. Ariel hesitated for just a moment, then entered the kitchenette and started opening cabinets in search of food.

"Whoa," said Nyala, getting up. "The sleeper awakes. Do you want cereal or oatmeal?"

"Cereal, please," replied Ariel, blushing. Rosamund snickered into her cereal as Nyala pulled out a box of something called Trix and grabbed a bowl. When her cereal was ready, Ariel sat on the barstool next to Rosamund and started eating. Nyala leaned against the island counter and scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"So," she said when she had swallowed, clearing her throat. "Game plan. We're going to get you some new clothes—"

Ariel exchanged a glance with Roz. "Clothes? But—"

"We've got it covered," said Roz. "Sorry, Nyala, continue."

"Right. After you get a wardrobe revamp, we're going to teach you self-defense."

That made Ariel sit up, wide-eyed. "_Self-defense_?"

* * *

Somehow, she found herself in the middle of a park. Dead trees and yellow grass surrounded them. Rosamund and Nyala were standing in front of her, their arms crossed. Ariel was wearing an entire outfit made out of shapeshifter hair thanks to a witch named Melusine, who ran a black market shop in an apartment building two blocks away from their own home. Lamps shed orange light across the park.

Rosamund stepped forward and grinned. "All right. Ariel, I want you to attack me. Give me everything you've got."

Ariel couched down and launched herself at her. Rosamund merely stepped out of the way. Expecting this, Ariel landed on her hands and feet and swung her leg out, tripping Rosamund up. She jumped to her feet and straddled Rosamund, lifting her fist to punch her.

Rosamund was staring at her, wide-eyed, eyes glassy. Ariel paused, sitting back and lowering her fist. Rosamund smiled and grabbed her arm, twisting it around, forcing her to get off of her to avoid pain. "Rule number one: never underestimate your enemy," she said, getting to her feet.

Ariel scowled and pushed herself up, rubbing her arm and looking around. But Rosamund was nowhere to be seen. They'd all worn black that night, and Rosamund had worn a beanie to cover her hair. Nyala was standing in the orange light, watching her with an amused smile.

Ariel closed her eyes and focused in on her other senses. Someone was breathing behind her—dead grass was crunching underneath someone's feet—

She whirled around and managed to grab the fist that came flying out of the darkness. She twisted the hand to the right, causing Roz to gasp and fall to the ground. "Rule number two," she told Rosamund, "always use your senses to your full advantage."

Rosamund got up and smirked. "True," she said. "You have some talent. Must be those Night People genes in you. If we keep training you, you'll be great at this."

Ariel put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And you're such an expert?"

Roz exchanged a glance with Nyala, and her smirk became a full-blown grin. "Sure. I was trained by the best, after all."

"The best?"

Roz's smile turned sad, and she looked down at the yellow grass. "Yeah," she muttered, suddenly pensive. "She called herself The Cat."

"What happened to her?" asked Ariel. Rosamund didn't reply, and she understood immediately. "Oh."

After a moment of silence, Rosamund looked up at Nyala. "Well, Pawar? This was your idea. You want to try your luck with your little protégée?"

Nyala stepped forward and smirked. "Sure. I trained with _the best_, too, you know. I have lots more experience than Roz—and don't think I'll be going easy on you."

Ariel shifted into a crouch and rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

_July 2, 2016. Ariel has now adjusted to her new life, and is learning more things every day. But a storm is coming, and she isn't quite ready to face it yet._

* * *

Nyala grunted as Ariel threw her to the floor, then put her hands at the base of the woman's throat. "Dead," she announced smugly.

They were in one of the basketball courts in the ghetto, and quite a few people had gathered to watch. A few had even volunteered to fight Ariel, Rosamund, or Nyala. Ariel tended to lose to those who actually knew what they were doing—but fighting the inexperienced people was actually kind of fun. There was a sweet sense of pride whenever someone yielded the fight to her.

Nyala was the toughest. Six days of training, and she had yet to beat her more than five times. "That's once," said Nyala, getting back to her feet. "Thirty-two more, and we'll be tied."

Ariel crossed her arms and glared at her, taking a moment to catch her breath. Rosamund laughed and put a hand on Ariel's shoulder. "I think Ariel here needs to take a break," she announced, to the laughter of the crowd. "But I'm ready to fight anyone who wants to fight _me_!"

Suddenly, the loudspeakers crackled, and everyone there fell silent. "Attention," blared a raspy, croaking voice. "Attention. There will be a mandatory meeting for all inhabitants of the Salt Lake ghetto in the courtyard tomorrow, at 12:30 P.M. Failure to attend the meeting will result in dire consequences. You are dismissed."

The speakers went silent, and Ariel turned to Rosamund. "What happens in the courtyard?" she asked.

Rosamund narrowed her eyes. "The courtyard's only used for when Maya wants to broadcast something big," she muttered. "She used it when she executed Prince Delos in '06. I don't know what she could use it for now, unless—"

Ariel gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth.

"_Aradia!_"


	7. chapter vii: the power of dreams

****don't forget to review, guys. next chapter's gonna be awesome. :)

* * *

**saints & sinners  
****chapter vii:  
**_(The Power of Dreams)_

* * *

_At the same time Ariel is adjusting to her life at Salt Lake, Maya has decided to execute someone—but not Aradia. She has more pressing concerns on her hands at the moment. And, at the moment, she has decided to rid her hands of a certain Gillian Lennox before she could help Delos and his friends escape Eris . . . again._

* * *

Quinn didn't hesitate as he knocked on the door. The witch was a traitor—she deserved everything that was coming to her.

Gisèle Maigny opened the door, her blue eyes sleepy. "Quinn," she yawned. "What do you want?"

"Where is your roommate?"

"Gillian?" Gisèle looked over her shoulder. "Hey, Jill, get up. Quinn's here."

A few seconds later, Gillian Lennox's silken head popped up over her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes and blinked owlishly at him. "Quinn?"

He stared at her. "Maya has ordered that you be brought to the throne room immediately for questioning."

Gillian frowned, suddenly more awake. "Why? What'd I do?"

Quinn narrowed his eyes. "Come with me, Gillian. Please."

Gisèle stepped out of the way as Gillian took her place by his side. She half-turned to her roommate and murmured, "I'll be back soon."

"Try not to wake me up when you come back, okay?" Gisèle muttered. She gave her roommate one more smile and shut the door. Gillian rubbed her eyes and turned to Quinn.

"What could Maya possibly want with me at two o'clock in the morning?" she asked. Quinn put a hand on her arm and started steering her down the brightly-lit hallway. Gillian huffed at his lack of response and said nothing else.

When they reached the entrance to the throne room, Quinn knocked before entering. Then he twisted the knob and went inside.

Maya turned at the sound of their footsteps and smiled. "Ah, Quinn, how wonderful to see you again. And I see you brought our little witch. Hello."

Gillian yawned and managed a curtsey. "My Queen."

Quinn let go of her and went to his place by Maya's throne. Maya clasped her hands behind her back and started walking around Gillian. "Am I really, though, Gillian? Do your loyalties truly lie with me?"

Gillian straightened and frowned. "Of course, my Queen."

Maya stopped in front of her and narrowed her eyes. "Then why did you help Prince Delos, James Redfern, Maddie Neely and Poppy North escape Eris in 2006?"

Gillian's lilac eyes became fearful. "My Queen, what are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb," snarled Maya. "You helped the prince."

Quinn suddenly saw a man with curly blonde hair and green eyes standing in the corner, smiling at him. But he was gone in just a second. It was almost like Quinn had imagined him.

_What the hell?_

Neither Maya nor Gillian had noticed this. "I don't know where your loyalties lie, Gillian, but they certainly aren't with me. I know you helped Delos—he told me himself—"

"My Queen, I swear, it wasn't me—"

"Confess now, and I'll give you a quick death—"

"But _I didn't do it_!" Gillian was scared now. He could smell it. "I swear as a daughter of Hellewise—"

"Don't say that name!" Maya slapped her, and Gillian went sprawling across the floor. Quinn didn't wince at the crack that resounded as the witch's head hit the stone floor. The smell of blood replaced the stench of fear. Instead of focusing on the blood, he watched the witch with avid interest.

She seemed so—_familiar_—

Maya knelt down at Gillian's side and touched the back of Gillian's head. The witch screamed and scrambled away, holding her head in pain. Maya stood up and rolled her eyes. "That was hasty of me. She cracked her skull. She'll die in a few minutes. When she does, Quinn, clean her up."

Quinn nodded and went to Gillian's side as she left. He grabbed her arm and brought it up to his lips, intending to drain her so that she could die a painless death, but Gillian's whisper caught his attention. "John."

He looked up and met her gaze. They were the color of lilac, glazed with tears—

_San Francisco—attacked—_

_She's dead, Quinn—Mary-Lynnette—_

Quinn had no idea what to do. He closed his eyes, attempting to stop the onslaught of visions, but it didn't help. More words echoed in his mind.

_Maya ordered it—it's started, don't you see?—_

_We need to get everyone out of there—they could die—_

"Gillian!"

Gillian Lennox. The lost witch who found her powers at sixteen. Protégée of—someone—he couldn't quite remember yet—but her soulmate was David Blackburn and he'd been killed on Maya's orders just two weeks ago—

He opened his eyes and cradled her close to him. "I'm sorry," he muttered into her blood-soaked hair. Gillian closed her eyes.

"You—you remember?" she whispered.

"Just you. Gillian—David's dead. Maya killed him. I'm sorry."

"I know. I knew the moment it happened." Gillian hiccupped, and he felt warm tears wet his shirtsleeve. She looked up into his eyes and smiled, bringing her hand up to touch his face. "I'm so glad—you remembered—"

She stopped talking abruptly, and she went limp in his arms. Quinn closed her eyes and picked her up bridal-style. Her small head leaned against his arm as he walked to the guards' part of the dorms. When he found Tora's he knocked quickly.

Tora opened the door a few minutes later, wide awake. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Gillian's body, but otherwise she didn't react to him at all. "What can I do for you, Quinn?" she asked.

Quinn handed her Gillian's body. "Give her a proper burial," he said. "Don't put her in the furnace. I want you to go to the mountain's base tomorrow and bury her."

Tora nodded. "I will," she whispered. "And, Quinn—get some sleep. You look like you haven't gotten any in weeks."

He waited for her to close the door before he finally was able to move. Images of Gillian's frozen face haunted him as he made his way to the entrance hall.

Maya was waiting on one of the grand staircases. She looked down at him and frowned. "Did you take care of her?"

Quinn nodded and glanced up at her. "Yes."

"Good. Clean yourself up. You're covered in blood." With that, she turned and walked up the stairs.

_Maya's torched Paris—Dragons crawling all across Tokyo—_

Quinn went up to his room and shut the door, locking it. He didn't bother to turn on the lights—instead, he lit a candle and brought it to the mirror. He stripped off his shirt and looked at the belladonna tattoo on his left arm. It writhed in silence, half-exposed by the candlelight.

For as long as he had lived, he had been a true Night Person. He'd joined Maya's cause as soon as Aradia had prophesized about the apocalypse, back in 1996. He'd been essential in wiping out Daybreak bases—but then there was Gillian, the Daybreak witch he remembered befriending. They had even lived in the same building, somewhere.

But if she was a Daybreaker, and he was on Maya's side, how had the two met? How had they become friends?

Gillian's presence in his memories almost seemed as if it didn't belong there.

A slow pain was building in his head. Quinn shook his head, stood up, and extinguished the candle.

Maybe he could figure it out tomorrow.

* * *

It was raining. Raindrops trickled down his skin and dripped to the ground, but he couldn't feel their watery coolness. He couldn't feel _anything_. Quinn was standing on a charred cliff that overlooked a beach. Everything here was black: the cliffs were covered in soot, the beach's sand was pitch-black, the dead trees glistened midnight all around him.

A woman was standing on the edge of the cliff, the paleness of her skin standing out against the darkness. Quinn looked behind him and stilled. A path led up to a hill, where a burnt house stood out. Smoke still drifted from the charred wood, and he could smell scorched flesh from where he was standing.

_I've seen this place before._

He looked over at the woman again, then glanced at the house. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned his back on the house and started walking toward her. Puddles were scattered all across the trail. Every time he looked down at one, an unfamiliar face shimmered back at him.

When he reached the edge of the cliff, he saw that the waves were a dark color, too: a shade of greenish-black. They rolled and crashed down on the shore like they were thrashing in the middle of a storm.

The woman looked at him, and the piercing green of her eyes was the brightest color he'd ever seen. Her black hair was plastered to her face, and her lips were white and twisted in a sad little smile. "Hello, John."

Quinn narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that."

The woman looked out over the beach. "Do you remember this place?"

Quinn looked back at the smoking ruin of a house and frowned. "No. This is a dream. This place probably doesn't even exist."

The woman chuckled. "Oh, it definitely exists. It's a little island, off the coast of Boston. It's the reason we met."

Quinn pretended to think for a moment. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Sorry."

The girl faced him, her eyes somber, but also determined. "Maybe this will jar your memory," she whispered, raising her hand and touching his face.

At first, nothing happened. But just as he was going to push her away, the barest trace of a shiver tingled up his spine. Another followed in its wake, adding heat to the mix. Suddenly, Quinn could feel everything—the coolness of the woman's touch, the freezing raindrops hitting his bare skin, the ash and soot underneath his feet.

The air started making a strange humming noise. He shuddered and took a step away from her, out of her reach. The shivers prickled down to his palm, and he shook his head to clear the feelings.

_The soulmate principle? But—that doesn't exist—hasn't for thousands of years—_

"Don't run from me," she pleaded. "John—"

Quinn's head snapped up and he snarled, baring his fangs at her. "Don't _call_ me that!"

The world around him began to spin and he stumbled, fell, and caught himself on the sifting black ash on the cliff. The girl ran to his side and knelt beside him. His palm shot out and grabbed her clothed shoulder. "You little _idiot_," he seethed, getting to his feet. He added the pressure to her shoulder, almost to the point of breaking the bone, but she didn't so much as flinch. "Don't you realize I could _kill_ you?"

She smiled. It was a smile of bitter defeat and disturbingly acquiescent. Her strange smile made him let her go. "Can you?" she whispered, getting to her feet. "_Can_ you, John?"

His hands started shaking as the subtle tremors started up again. The image of a forest and two panthers suddenly flashed through his mind, and he staggered back. "Who are you?" he managed, gritting his teeth against the white pain writhing inside his head.

Meanwhile, wind picked up speed, and the waves seemed to grow more violent. Lightning lit up the horizon, and the thunder boomed soon afterward. The coming storm had finally arrived.

But neither Quinn nor the woman were distracted by it.

The girl's resigned smile slipped from her face, and her expression became pained. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, and when she pulled it back, it was coated with scarlet blood. His eyes widened at the sight. Blood started dripping onto the ground from her wound. She looked up and whispered, "Remember, John. You have to _remember_."

"Remember what?"

The woman closed her eyes and fell forward. Quinn caught her and sank to his knees, kneeling in her blood. She opened her eyes and brushed his cheek with her fingertips. Her touch left a trail of burgundy in its wake. _Remember Daybreak. Remember me. Remember who you were. Aradia can tell you._

Her eyes fluttered shut, and a small part of him died inside.

* * *

Quinn woke up bathed in cold sweat. It was pure black in the room, and, for the first time, Quinn hated it.

He got out of the bed and flipped on the lights, breathing a sigh of relief before risking a glance at the alarm clock. 5:40 A.M., it read. Three and a half hours. That was the longest he'd slept in two weeks.

He shrugged on a shirt and left his room, heading straight for the prisons.

_Aradia can tell you._

When he reached Block 22, both Aradia and the werewolf guard were sleeping. The candle, the only source of light, had been reduced to a stub. Quinn slammed the door shut behind him, waking up both inhabitants of the room.

The werewolf peered up at him, blinking slowly. "Hey, man, what're you doin'—"

"I need to talk to the Maiden. Alone." When the werewolf made no move to leave, he snapped, "Leave, Fido."

The werewolf narrowed his eyes, got up, and left the room, muttering darkly under his breath. Aradia's eyes were still closed, but she wasn't breathing as deeply as before. "What can I help you with, John?" she asked.

Quinn pulled up the chair to her cell and sat in it, glaring at her. "My name is Quinn."

"Your name is John Quinn. Why are you here at six o'clock in the morning, John?"

"You know damn well why," he hissed. "If you think you can try to trick me into supporting your little vermin-loving gang, you're wrong. No spells you can do will change my mind. Maya saved me from your vampire hunters."

Aradia's expression softened. "John Quinn, what have they done to you?"

"The better question is what have _you_ done to me. What did you _do_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The dream!" he snarled, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "I don't dream. Ever. This is the first one in years, and it's because of you. Whatever you did with that Lethe spell—it won't work. My loyalties are with Maya."

"Are they?" asked Aradia, tucking her legs underneath her. "John, listen to me. You were a member of Circle Daybreak—"

"I was _not_—"

"But Maya captured you, and she forced you to drink her own Cup of Lethe. I realized it the moment I knew you didn't recognize me. Only the Inner Circle can remove the Lethe's effects, and I performed a spell that will help you recover the memories you lost by drinking the Lethe."

Quinn slowly sat back down, his lips pursed. "So are you saying these memories I have of vampire hunters attacking me are fake?"

Aradia opened her eyes and stared resolutely ahead. "Yes. Tell me about this dream you had, John. Perhaps I can help you."

Quinn glared at her, but finally relented and told her every detail of his dream. Aradia was smiling by the time he was done. "Do you believe in ghosts, John Quinn?"

"What?—No. What does that have to do with anything?"

Aradia closed her eyes and bowed her head, as if she were in prayer. "I think you should look into your past and see what kind of ghosts may haunt it. If you can find one name, you'll know who that woman was."

"You aren't making any sense. I came here for answers, witch."

Aradia raised her head to look at the ceiling. "Free me."

"Excuse me?"

"Free me, and you'll get all the answers you want."

The silence was deafening. Quinn sneered at her and got up. "I would never betray the Night World. Freeing you is not worth knowing the meaning of my dreams."

With that, he got up out of the chair and went to the door. "I'm done," he told the werewolf, stepping out into the hallway.

He leaned against the wall after the door swung shut behind him. Quinn tilted his head back and almost laughed—not because her offer was ridiculous, even though it was. He laughed because he had seriously considered her proposal.

* * *

That morning, Maya found him in the lounge deep in the base of the mountain, playing the piano in a corner. Timothy and two other vampires were there as well, playing pool or watching television. Maya sat on the piano bench next to Quinn and played the harmony part to his Lachlann piece.

"Gregor Lachlann," she said, shaking her head when the piece was finished. "He was a great Night composer. Shame he was killed by a vampire hunter. The humans gave him no credit."

Quinn looked at her eyes—they were a bright, vivid green—and looked away. He couldn't get the woman and her piercing green eyes out of his head. His hands still tingled from his dream. "I suppose," he said, beginning another piece.

Maya put a hand on his, stopping his playing. There wasn't any noise in the room other than the low murmur of other vampires' voices. "So, I've heard reports that the ghettos are getting a bit too crowded again," she said. "I'm thinking of inviting the Dragoncrown and holding a Hunt in the Salt Lake. What do you think?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Timothy straighten slightly, and his interest peaked. Why did Timothy care whether or not they were having a Hunt in the Salt Lake?

Quinn focused back on Maya and shrugged. "If you prefer it," he said. "It might be a chance to strengthen relations with the Dragoncrown."

The "Dragoncrown," of course, meant the dragon royalty. There had been five originals: Meraux, the king; Belinda, the queen; Uther and Samael, the twin princes; and Valencia, the infant princess. Valencia was the only dragon spared when the witches put the dragons to sleep, because she was so young. Now there were only four of the Dragoncrown left. As Maya had awakened them all with ancient Hearth-Woman magic (the same magic that made her a vampire and Timothy an older made vampire) the dragons were under her control.

Maya smiled, delighted. "Wonderful. I was just thinking the same! Very well. We'll have a Hunt within a week. If the Dragoncrown can make it, even better! The more, the merrier. Thank you, Quinn."

With that, she left the lounge. Quinn began playing another piano piece. A few minutes after she was gone, Timothy turned off the television, stood up, and left the room. Quinn stopped his playing and stared after the young vampire, his eyes narrowed.

Why had he been listening to their conversation?

He ended the piece and quickly followed Timothy. The vampire gave no inclination that he was being followed until they reached the grand entrance hall, when Timothy turned and glared at him. "What do you want?"

"Why were you listening to our conversation?" Quinn asked, stepping closer. "What could possibly be so important to you in the Salt Lake?"

Timothy narrowed his eyes, which had turned a dangerous shade of gray. "It's none of your business."

"No, really, I can't think of anything important—wait." Quinn paused, eyes going wide, as realization hit him. "That vermin girl that you brought in a few weeks ago—Ariel. _She_ went to the Salt Lake ghetto."

Timothy clenched his jaw at _vermin_ and his eyes turned ice gray. "Yes, she did."

"Is she your soulmate? Is that why you care so much?"

Timothy sneered, but Quinn could see the fear in his eyes. "Is she my soulmate? Of course not. The soulmate principle is a bunch of nonsense."

Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the belladonna's mosaic on the floor. Suddenly he saw the woman's green eyes again and he closed his eyes, whispering, "I thought that too, once. But now I'm not so sure."

Timothy frowned, crossing his arms. "Look, are we done here? I have a drawing I want to finish."

Before Quinn could respond, he heard light footsteps on the floor above them. "Quinn? Timothy? What are you two doing here?" asked Maya. They looked up to see her standing on the second floor upstairs, staring down at them, smiling slightly.

"I'm about to go to bed," answered Quinn. "I'm worn out."

Maya nodded, and turned to Timothy, who shrugged. "Well, I was in one of my labs when I heard you two arguing. Quinn, why don't you go to bed and get your rest. You look awful. Timothy, could you be a dear and start to spread the word of the Hunt? We'll meet at the train station, and we'll be at the ghetto by 11:30. It's in two weeks."

Timothy bowed. "Of course, my Queen."

With that, he left the room. As soon as he was gone, Maya's smile disappeared, and her eyes became a shade of icy blue. "Quinn, I had a troubling report today," she said, inspecting her nails. "Apparently, you went down to the prisons to speak to that Maiden?"

Quinn made a mental note to show the werewolf why he was one of the most feared vampires in the world. "I did," he said, looking up to meet her eyes. No use in lying—she would know in a moment.

"Why?"

"I wanted to know what sort of spell she put on me," he said. "What she meant when she said 'free you from the Lethe'."

Maya frowned. "And did she tell you?"

"No. She told me to free her if I wanted to know anything. I laughed in her face." He shrugged. "Guess I'll never know. It doesn't seem to be doing anything, though, so maybe the witches' power _has_ all but disappeared."

That made her chuckle, and she straightened and began to walk down the stairs. "True, true. Thank you, Quinn. Goodnight."

He waited for her to reach him so he could kiss her hands, then bowed and went to his room.

Maya turned to watch him leave. When she heard the definitive click of the door, she turned and headed straight to the prisons, seething. She had worked so hard to become what she was today—and no Maiden of the Witches was going to ruin her progress.

The werewolf guard jumped when she opened the door and slammed it behind her. "You," she hissed, pointing at him, "out."

He left with no complaint. Maya snarled and faced Aradia, grabbing the iron bars that separated the two. "You may think you're smart, little witch. But I have millennia of experience on you. You will _not_ ruin everything I've worked for."

Aradia was sitting in front of the candle in her cell, refusing to look at Maya. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"John Quinn! He's _mine_. He wears my tattoo. He will obey any and _all _orders I give him, so don't think that trying to restoring his memory will change anything."

Aradia looked up. "I haven't restored his memory, Maya. Why are you so scared of losing him? Is it because you know you've never had him in the first place?"

"Of course not," scoffed Maya. "He's always been mine. Ever since 2002, his loyalties have lain with me. It's not going to change just because of your arrival."

"Don't be so sure," Aradia muttered, bowing her head again.

Maya let go of the bars and straightened, narrowing her eyes. "You're becoming a growing threat to my city, Aradia. I'm not sure I like it. It's only because of other problems that I've held off executing you in front of the world. That might change very soon."

"Only the insecure strive for security, Maya," said Aradia, looking up. Her blind eyes met her gaze, then slid away to look at the ceiling. "Why do you think of me as such a threat?"

"You're one of Daybreak's leaders. If you take out the leaders, the opposition crumbles. Once you're gone, there will be _no_ hope left." Maya straightened and glared at her.

"Your days are numbered, little witch. I would make sure they count."


	8. chapter viii: a storm is coming

I recommend listening to really awesome music as you read this chapter. Hope it doesn't disappoint!

* * *

**saints & sinners  
****chapter xiii:  
**_(A Storm is Coming)_

* * *

It was the morning of July 3. All of the Night People going on the Hunt had boarded the train, except for Maya. She was standing in the throne room, in front of the door that led down to the train station. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hunts aren't exactly the most common of occurrences."

Quinn shrugged. "Someone has to make sure the slaves don't misbehave," he explained. "Besides, I'm still tired. I think it would be best if I stayed behind."

Maya still looked skeptical. "All right," she said at last. "Make sure the slaves do all of their regular duties, plus clean up the palace. I want this place to be sparkling when we get back. Meraux will be coming in a few weeks' time."

Quinn smiled and kissed her hands. "Of course, my Queen. Have fun at the Hunt."

Maya grinned, pulling her hair back into a tight bun at the top of her head. She was wearing an elastic black ensemble and combat boots. Her "hunting outfit" was meant to keep everything orderly. If any blood happened to stain her clothes, most people wouldn't know. "I intend to. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, she turned and disappeared into the tunnel that led to the train station. Quinn waited a few heartbeats before turning to Iona. "You know what to do," he said shortly. "Make sure the palace is spotless. If there's an emergency, I'll be in my room."

Iona curtseyed as he passed her, then turned to go tell the other slaves about their duties for the day.

* * *

The skyline of the Salt Lake was turning pink as the sun set, and two people were currently standing in the middle of a basketball court.

Ariel was awaiting 12:30 with unease. She was so distracted by the possibility of Aradia being executed on public, world-wide television, that she hadn't been able to train properly all day. Plus, she had a feeling that it was going to rain soon, and she had never liked rain.

Rosamund put her hands on her hips after Ariel had failed to block her attack for the fifth time in a row. "What is _wron_g with you?"

"Sorry. It's just—I'm worried," she admitted, running a hand through her hair and sitting down. Rosamund sighed and sat next to her.

"Listen to me, kid. I don't know what's going to happen at 12:30, but Aradia is _not _going to be executed, okay? Maya would make sure it happened at a time where everyone was awake."

Ariel sighed and noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. "I just feel sick," she said, closing her eyes as her stomach roiled again.

"Do you think you might be coming down with something?"

"I don't know." She glanced behind her at the large bell tower—the tower that marked the center of the ghetto. It was a few blocks away, but it was still clearly visible. _12:14_, it read. Sixteen more minutes, and then she could go back to feeling better.

Her hand moved down to the purple necklace Valencia had given to her, outlining its shape in her pocket just to make sure it was safe. The night prior, Valencia had told her she would need it for today, and Ariel thought it would be better to be safe than sorry.

"Do you want to go back to the apartment or something?" Roz asked.

Before Ariel could answer, someone spoke—but not out loud. The voice was in her head.

_Wait. Please._

She sprung to her feet and looked around, wondering who had said that. Rosamund got up and narrowed her eyes, touching Ariel's arm. She had heard the voice too.

A few seconds later, Timothy appeared from the shadows. Ariel recoiled. "Timothy? What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life," he replied, coming to a stop in front of them. "Please—you have to get out of here. Maya's planned a Hunt. It's happening in less than twenty minutes, when the sun goes down."

Roz straightened. "How can we be sure you're telling the truth?"

Timothy scowled at her. "Why would I waste my time telling you this, when none of Salt Lake's population even knows why they're having a meeting in the town center? When 12:30 hits, the dragons are going to make their Call, and everyone will be drawn to the center of the ghetto. Then they'll kill everyone in sight. You have to get out."

Roz looked at Ariel and pointed at Timothy. "Do you trust him?"

Ariel swallowed and looked at him. His eyes were a wide, innocent shade of blue. _He saved my life once._ "I . . . don't know. I don't _distrust_ him."

Timothy clenched his jaw and glowered at the asphalt. Ariel chewed on the inside of her cheek and added, "I mean—he saved my life."

Apparently this was enough for Roz, because she nodded once and took something out of her pocket. It was a bright yellow-and-red zinnia keychain that reminded Ariel of the sun. "All right, parasite. Spread the word that a Hunt is going to happen soon. Tell everyone that they need their emergency earplugs. Now."

Timothy spared one last look at Ariel and disappeared. All she felt was a whoosh of wind as he passed. Rosamund turned to Ariel and took out bright purple earplugs. "The people here trust you," she said, handing a pair to her. "You go spread the word as well. I'll go tell Nyala. Put these in before 12:30."

As Ariel turned to go, Roz added, "Oh, and Ariel?"

"Yes?"

"When you're done telling people a Hunt is coming, I would find a place to hide."

* * *

Quinn opened his eyes to see that he was in the same place as his last dream. It was still raining; the house behind him was still smoking and charred; and the woman was still standing on the edge of the cliff. The only difference was that he could _feel _again.

The woman didn't say anything when he stood next to her. Quinn broke the silence by saying, "Who are you?"

The woman looked at him, her green eyes as bright as the last time he'd seen her. It was almost a comfort, seeing as she had died in his arms the last dream. Her expression was resigned with a trace of sadness. "You know who I am, John," she said.

He shook his head and stared out over the crashing waves on the sand. The woman sighed and sat down on the edge of the cliff, patting the space next to her. Quinn sat down as well, and she turned to face him, rolling up one of her black sleeves to reveal the palest skin he'd ever seen.

She held it out to him, and he took it, staring at her in disbelief. "You want me to drink your blood?"

She nodded. "Since this isn't real, it won't satisfy your actual thirst . . . but hopefully it'll trigger _something_."

Quinn stared at the arm, his canines already lengthening at the thought of blood. "But—"

"Do you want to know who I am or not?"

"You can't just tell me?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Quinn gave her one last look, and raised her arm to his lips. The moment he tasted her blood, something snapped. Buried images and words rushed to the forefront of his mind.

The woman, leaning in to whisper in his ear. _I want to surrender to the darkness_—

The woman sitting above him, a knife raised above his throat. Quinn's voice saying, _I can't stand the sight of me in your eyes—_

The woman's knife dropping to rest on his chest; her shaking her head, tears in her eyes._ I can't kill you—God help me, I can't—_

The two of them in a room, talking to each other. _We live or die together from now on—_

Quinn talking to Hunter Redfern. _This is my soulmate—_

"_Rashel!_" he gasped, breaking away from her arm and clutching his head. Rashel smiled, water—he couldn't tell if it was tears or the rain—trickling down her face. The pain in his head slowly receded, and he looked up to meet her bright green gaze. "Rashel," he breathed again.

"You remember," she whispered. Quinn cupped her face with his hands. Electricity traveled down his arms and left a pleasant tingling sensation behind. The air started to hum again.

"I never forgot," he replied. Rashel smiled and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

* * *

12:30 came too soon. Ariel had just put her earplugs in when the loudspeakers above the ghetto crackled and the deepest, most spine-tingling sound she'd ever heard came out of it. It made gooseflesh erupt on her arms and the hairs on the back of the neck stand up.

The earplugs made it too faint for her to be affected by it, but the people around her—those who hadn't believed her or hadn't had the time to put their earplugs in—definitely were. A little girl, who couldn't have been more than ten years old, dropped her earplugs and her expression became vacant. She turned and started walking toward the clock tower with a sort of robotic shuffling.

Ariel panicked and grabbed the girl, dragging her backwards. The child opened her mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream, making Ariel wince. She kicked Ariel's shins and dug her nails into her flesh, squirming to get away. When she finally sank her teeth into Ariel's arm, she was forced to let go. The girl dropped to her feet and ran away.

All around her people were moving toward the town square. Every time she tried to stop one, they would violently throw her off and break into a run. Ariel stood in the middle of a sea of bodies, helpless.

_I have to talk to Roz. She'll know what to do_, she thought wildly.

But where was Roz?

Timothy's voice spoke in her head. _Ariel? Are you okay?_

Something akin to relief washed through her, and she closed her eyes to concentrate more. She'd done a bit of telepathy with Aradia, but she had no idea how it would work with Timothy. _Yes. Where are you?_

_I'm on West Street. Anyone I try to stop, they attack me and start running for the clock tower._

_Me too. Have you seen Rosamund?_

_Who?_

_The blonde lady who was with me._

_Oh. I saw her heading into the town square. But she didn't look like she was brainwashed. She had some wood with her. I bet she's planning on staking someone._

Ariel began to run. The sun was setting more rapidly now; the sky was bleaching of color and becoming darker. The streetlights hummed as, one by one, they began to flicker on, spilling orange light over the robotic populace. _Thanks. Be careful!_

_I'm a vampire. They won't go after me._ You_ be careful._

The moment she entered the town square, a stench of death so powerful overwhelmed her, and she slowed to a stop to survey the damage. Night People were everywhere. Blood splattered the gray stone of the square, and there were already bodies lying around. The screams she could hear were a faint buzz in her ears.

Her stomach heaved violently and she started to back up—_no! Don't be a coward. Adventure Ariel, remember? You came here for Roz. So find Roz._

She held her breath as she scanned the writhing crowd for a shock of blonde hair—and froze.

Roz was in the forefront of the fight, shoving pieces of wood into any vampires she saw. But one dodged her thrust, grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. Before she could react, he had forced her neck to one side and had his mouth on her throat.

Blind fury overtook Ariel, and a growl ripped itself from her throat. She started running toward the vampire—as she ran, her clothes melted into her skin to become golden fur. A tail sprung free, and her fingernails lengthened into razor-sharp claws. For a moment, Ariel felt like she was flying—and then she was charging at the vampire as a snarling lion.

The vampire looked up a moment too late. He dropped Roz as Ariel jumped, and he wasn't fast enough to escape her. She crashed into him and dived for his throat, her jaws widening around his neck and biting down hard.

Muscle crunched and bones snapped underneath her teeth. It sounded like breaking glass. As Ariel pinned the vampire to the ground, Rosamund rolled over, grabbed a piece of wood, and plunged it into the heart of the vampire to finish him off. Then she collapsed on the body as Ariel scrambled to her feet.

Ariel turned to face her and concentrated on changing back. In the next moment, she was human again and holding Rosamund in her arms. She stood up and half-dragged, half-carried her into a shadowy alley that was safe from attack, hyperventilating.

Oh, God, she'd just turned into a _lion_. And she hadn't even meant to! And she'd _killed_ somebody! Ariel closed her eyes, shaking, trying to keep her breathing even.

Roz grinned up at her in the semidarkness as Ariel took out her earplugs. Blood trickled from the wound on her neck, and the stench of death made her gag. "So that's your form, huh?" She coughed into her hand and, when she pulled it away, her skin shone scarlet. Ariel's stomach heaved, but she swallowed down the bile. "Nice."

Tears brimmed in Ariel's eyes. She had killed someone, and now Roz was dying, too. She could barely see her in the darkness, so she settled for fisting her hands in her shirt. "What were you _thinking_?"

Roz cleared her throat and whispered, "I took one for the team."

The screams in the square were deafening, but Ariel was focused entirely on Roz's face. Roz sighed and smiled at her. "Hey . . . can you . . . do me a favor?"

Ariel swallowed and nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"Tell Eric I'm sorry," she whispered.

Ariel sobbed harder at that and lowered her to the asphalt alley. "Tell him yourself!"

Rosamund smirked as her green eyes fixed on something in the distance. Her own eyes prickled hotly. She sighed softly and stilled. Ariel laid Roz on the ground, gently sliding her eyes shut. "You were supposed to tell me about my family," she told the cooling corpse, voice catching.

* * *

Iona was armed with a broom, a dustpan, and a feather duster. She was ready to take on the vampires' private rooms, no matter how messy they may be. _Maya wants this place to be spotless_, she thought with a small smirk, _I'll make sure it's spotless._

She worked her way down the hall, cleaning every room but Quinn's, until she got to the second-to-last room. She'd discovered two of Maya's three labs, and she still had to clean Timothy's bedroom. She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, stepping inside to see if the room was Timothy's.

It was Maya's third lab. The room had innumerable beeping medical machines, but the sight of those wasn't what had surprised Iona. No, it was the cot pushed to the end of the room—and who was on it.

Maggie Neely lay on the mattress, out cold.

_This_ was where Maya had been keeping her.

The cleaning supplies clattered to the floor as Iona turned on her heel and headed straight for the prisons.

* * *

The tears spilled over as Ariel stood up and stepped over Roz's body. _They're going to pay_, she thought, stepping out into the city lights so she could re-enter the fray. The screams had all but disappeared, and now there was nothing but the noise of the Night People feasting.

Before she could focus on changing into a lion, someone grabbed her arm and dragged her back into the alleyway. Ariel spun around, ready to attack, but relaxed when she saw that the person was Nyala. Nyala bowed her head when she saw Roz, then clenched her jaw and met Ariel's eyes. "You need to leave," she ordered.

"No," Ariel hissed, her eyes burning from the tears. "They killed Roz. They need to _pay_."

"We'll take care of it," retorted Nyala. "You need to escape before someone finds you and kills you. Don't you realize that Eris is currently unoccupied? I'm betting all of the Night People from that stronghold are here."

"So?"

"_So_, the prisons are unguarded," said Nyala, turning around and giving Ariel a little push. "You need to go back to Eris as soon as you can."

Ariel was already taking a step back. "But—Roz—"

"She'll be given a hero's burial. You need to find Aradia and_ free_ her. She's the only leader we have left!"

Ariel closed her eyes and nodded, taking out the necklace and slipping it on. Then she turned around and started to run—the normal way. She wasn't going to turn into a feral beast if she could help it.

She entered a part of the ghetto she had never seen before. Now that she was out of the town center, the Salt Lake seemed eerily silent. Gooseflesh emerged across her arms, and she started walking down the street.

_You know, you would be able to get to Eris faster if you were a lion._ Valencia's voice was soft in her head. Ariel shook her head and closed her eyes, picking up her pace.

_No. I won't—I'm not a monster._

_Lions aren't monsters. They're regal animals that inspire respect wherever they go. They also can go up to thirty-six miles per hour. Eris is forty miles away from here. If you leave now, you'll be there in no time._

_I don't know how to change back._

_You do. You just need practice. Trust me on this, all right?_

Ariel swallowed, wiping her eyes. _I don't even know who you are. Why should I trust you?_

_Let's just say I have your best interests at heart. I do want you to succeed, Ariel, even though you might not believe me. All right, I can see you're still not listening to me. If I help you with changing and changing back, will you do it?_

Ariel stopped and closed her eyes, nodding slightly. A liquid heat spread through her muscles, and she shifted.

It wasn't painful—it was like a bandage being ripped off. There was a sting at first, but it faded quickly. She felt like she was floating in nothingness for a moment. When she opened her eyes, she was sitting on the street as a lion.

Ariel stood up, gathering her balance and her bearings, and started off at a slow trot. When she got the hang of her shape, she picked up speed, until she was charging through the streets.

She stopped when she saw a nine-foot-wall topped with barbed wire. Guards stood in the posts positioned in the middle of them, and she backed into the shadows. _How do I get out?_

_Jump._ Valencia's voice rang clear in her head.

_Jump? Can I do that?_

_That wall is nine feet tall. Lions can jump up to eleven feet. Jump. But get a running start first._

Ariel took a deep breath, then stepped back out into the streets. She ran at the wall, gathered her muscles, and leapt. She soared over the wall and landed hard on the ground. In a second, she had recovered and was running toward the mountain range—toward Eris.

* * *

Iona stepped out of the room at the same time Quinn opened his door. She stopped and stared at him, wide-eyed, hoping he wouldn't notice she was in front of one of Maya's studies.

Quinn, for his part, looked like an electric shock had gone through him. The moment he stepped out into the hall, he looked up and his black eyes met hers. "Iona," he breathed. "You've grown."

Iona was stunned. He had never called her by her name—except when they had met when she was eight, back when he was a Daybreaker. "My lord?"

Quinn appeared in front of her and grabbed her shoulders. "Don't—don't call me that. Call me Quinn." A smile blossomed on his face. "Iona, I _remember_."

"You—remember?"

"Yes. Everything."

"How—how can I know you're telling the truth?"

"You have a soulmate named Tristan Dawson. Delos Redfern's soulmate is named Maggie Neely, and Delos is a Wild Power and also a lamia vampire. Gillian Lennox, a Harman girl, comes from the bloodline of Elspeth Harman, and she helped him escape in 2006. There aren't any Harman girls left, because Thea Harman died in 2000 on her way to London and Blaise Harman committed suicide two years later. My soulmate's name is Rashel Jordan, and she was a human vampire hunter."

He finished with a wider smile than he'd worn before. Iona laughed and turned, heading down the stairs. Quinn followed her. "There aren't any guards in the prisons today," she explained. "I wasn't planning on this, but since I have your help, we can break everyone out—James, Delos and Aradia."

"Sounds like a plan. Aradia first?"

"Yes, she sounds like she would take longer to free. Maya and the others aren't coming back until midnight, so we have plenty of time."

Aradia was meditating in her cell when they opened the door. Her head turned slightly, and she smiled. "Hello, John and Iona."

Quinn only felt a small twinge of annoyance at the use of his first name. He was almost getting used to it from her. "Aradia," he greeted. "We're here to free you."

Aradia pushed herself to her feet and faced them as Iona produced a hairpin and successfully picked the lock with it. When Quinn shot her a questioning look, she smiled a bit sheepishly. "Let's just say, I've had a lot of experience when it comes to things like these," she said.

She pushed the door open, and Aradia walked out, her eyes gazing vacantly at the rock ceiling. "Thank you, Iona," she said, touching her arm with perfect accuracy. "If you don't mind, I would like to be taken to the highest part of the mountain."

Iona and Quinn exchanged a glance. "Why?" asked Iona. Aradia merely smiled and looked at Quinn for an answer.

"We have an outpost on the peak," said Quinn.

Aradia's smile widened. "That will be perfect."

* * *

To get to the peak, they had to climb close to seven hundred steps—and those were when Quinn wasn't carrying Aradia. Maya hardly ever remembered to feed her prisoners, so it wasn't a surprise that Aradia was sick and often too weak to climb more than thirty steps at a time.

They reached the peak of the mountain within an hour. Aradia stood in front of the wall of windows and closed her eyes, her lips beginning to tremble as she said a spell.

"What's she doing?" asked Quinn. Iona elbowed him in the ribs to keep quiet.

"A summoning spell, by the looks of it," she whispered back.

Aradia lifted her face to the sky and began to speak. The only sound in the room was her voice.

"It is not I who speak these words, but Hecate. It is her hand that guides me now; it is her voice that gives my words power. Hear me, Spirits, and listen to my call."

"I call forth the light of the Day. I call forth the flame of the hearth. I call forth the land of kings. I call forth the twilight and the dark. By blood and darkness I summon thee! By the powers of Earth, Water, Air and Fire—I call you back!From the narrow path—I call you back! As a daughter of Hellewise and the Maiden of the Witches—_I call you forth!_"

A pulse of power—that was the only word Iona could use to describe the wave of energy that washed through her—exploded out of Aradia, and she fell to her knees. Quinn caught her before her head hit the ground.

Iona was rooted to the spot. Her fingers and toes tingled at the magic in the air, and she could feel the hairs on her neck stand up. Quinn felt the magnitude of the spell as well. When he looked up, his eyes were wide. "What was that?" he whispered.

"Something very, very powerful," replied Iona.

* * *

_And Iona is right, but more so than she can possibly imagine. Aradia has conducted one of the most potent summoning spells in existence. Her spell is encircling the globe, searching for the four people the world needs the most._

* * *

Delos couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Maggie—brown eyes flat, body limp, face frozen in fear. Just like Poppy.

If Maggie died because of him, he'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd go crazy with guilt, just like everyone else in Daybreak.

Like Ash, because he hadn't stopped Mary-Lynnette from going to San Francisco. Like Eric, because he hadn't fought hard enough to convince Thea to stay in Nevada. Like James, because he'd allowed himself to let Poppy go hunt alone.

He couldn't do anything here in Eris. Not with Maggie's life at stake.

Something that sounded like thunder echoed through the room then. The ground began to shake, and rocks from the ceiling showered down on them. James grabbed the wooden bars of their cell to keep from falling. The candle flame enlarged to twice its size, then went out, immersing them in total darkness.

"What the hell was that?" asked James. Delos's fingers started tingling.

"I don't know," he said, "but I doubt it's anything good."

* * *

He stared into the candle flames in silence, listening to the footsteps and heartbeats above him. Contrary to popular belief, candles did make a noise. They hissed. It was the only noise Kierlan Drache was used to, here in his prison cell.

"You're not coming out until you tell us where the Wild Power is," they'd told him. The irony almost made him want to laugh. They'd executed Delos Redfern on public television back in 2006—why was Maya still looking for the fourth Wild Power in the first place? _Four less one and darkness triumphs._

Kierlan smiled and looked at his nails. They kept them closely trimmed so he wouldn't be able to hurt himself, and they never sent shapeshifters into his cell for anything. He hadn't chosen a form yet, after all.

_Go ahead,_ he thought, smiling at the lone candle. _Look for Mal. He's not the Wild Power._

The ground abruptly began to tremble. The candle's flame swelled in size before it exploded in a shower of yellow light. Kierlan was too far away to be harmed, but it had surprised him nonetheless.

The guard opened the door outside, letting light flood Kierlan's room. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I don't know. I need a new candle, though." He smiled innocently, squinting in front of the bright lights. The guard scowled and shut the door. A few minutes later, he returned with a lit candle and set it in front of the door.

Kierlan didn't move from his spot against the wall. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, wondering if he had just imagined the candle flame turning blue before it exploded.

* * *

"Papers," said the man as he made his way down the aisle, holding out an expectant hand. Catherine Clovis smiled at him as she handed him her passport. He glanced over it quickly and handed it back to her, moving on to her two companions.

Catherine, whose true name was actually Iliana, only let out her breath when he went into the next carriage. "I think I'm going to be sick," she admitted to the strawberry-haired blonde sitting next to her.

Winfrith Arlin smiled at her, and Nissa Johnson leaned back into the seat to sleep. "My stomach's all twisted, too," she said, grabbing her friend's hand. "But Washington won't be so bad. You'll see."

Iliana sighed and pressed her forehead against the window. Suddenly, an electric shock ran through her, and she straightened, glancing around. Winfrith was talking to Nissa. No one had touched her.

And she suddenly had the inexplicable urge to look behind her. But there was nothing there but the end of the carriage. A strange pull made her want to go west, but, for the life of her, Iliana couldn't identify the reason why.

She tugged on Winfrith's sleeve, getting her attention. "Did you feel that?" she whispered. Winnie frowned at her, confused.

"Feel what?"

"Nothing," said Iliana, turning to look out the window. Winnie stared at her for a short while, but returned to her conversation with Nissa.

But Iliana never lost the urge to look behind her—to look west.

_Something's coming_, she thought. _Something big._

* * *

The pain was indescribable. It felt like someone had rolled her over with a steamroller, dipped her in acid, and poked her with sharp knives all over her body. And it came all at once—that was the worst part. She had been floating in a sea of nothing, and suddenly red-hot pain came and disrupted her from her sleep.

Her eyes flew open and she jerked up, clutching her stomach. She grimaced as she took a breath. The sharp ache reverberated all the way down to her toes, but it hurt the most in her abdomen. Her fingers ghosted over her midsection, probing for injuries, and she winced.

_Where am I?_

Then she took note of her surroundings. The white sheer window drapes were floating on the soft breeze coming in through the open windows, and the sky outside was a pale gray. Candles flickered on plates chained to the ceiling. She could smell the rain and hear it pattering softly on the roof.

But there was another smell . . . blood. Lots of blood. Her mouth went dry at the very thought of it. She looked around and saw a mirror directly across from her. A woman she didn't recognize stared out back at her: a woman with a sleeveless, floor-length pale green dress, a streak of gray in her fire-orange hair, emaciated arms, a hollow blue gaze with dark circles underneath her eyes. Her reflection was a living skeleton.

_What happened to me?_

She could remember bits and pieces—a girl with spun gold for hair and a golden ring and an angelic smile shoving her out of the way of purple blaze erupting from a scaly snout—a boy with dirty blond hair hurling orange flames at a man—a wolf launching itself into the air—and fire, God, the _blue fire_—

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see her skeleton-self, and she slowly swung her legs out over the bed. Her whole body ached, but she gritted her teeth, stood up, and took a few steps forward. She fell to the carpeted floor immediately, catching herself with her hands. More pain traveled up her arms in waves.

The door was a few feet away from her, a mocking symbol of her weakness. The woman tried again to rise, to take a step toward the door, and she fell. On the fourth try, she caught herself on to the dresser, and limped her way to the door. Her legs just didn't seem to know how to work properly.

When she opened the door, she saw an equally gray hallway, with end tables scattered across the corridor. Candles cast a soft glow on the alabaster. She used the wall to support herself as she made her way to the end of the hall. She would stumble every so often, but soon she got the hang of walking once more.

Then she had to face a new challenge: going down the stairs. That was where the blood was, she was sure of it. Her frail hands, their skin stretched over every bone, grasped the railing for dear life as she slowly climbed down the stairs.

When she reached the bottom, she immediately saw the carnage. The door was ripped off of its hinges, and bodies were scattered across the hall. But their hearts weren't beating—it would be too difficult to get the blood out. But there was someone in here with a heartbeat, weak as it was. She followed the heartbeat, leaning heavily on the wall for support.

The heartbeat led her to a middle-age woman with dark brown-and-gray hair pulled back into a gentle bun. She was sitting against the wall, her arms, neck and lips scarlet. The woman winced at the pain in her body and went to the one sitting on the floor, collapsing into a heap at her side.

She grabbed the burgundy arm, ready to drink and relieve her thirst, when the woman spoke. She had a gentle but commandeering voice, and it captured the woman's attention immediately. "Jezebel Redfern."

_Jezebel Redfern. Is that my name?_

Jezebel Redfern stopped halfway to her arm and looked up at the woman, waiting for her to continue. The woman wore a black dahlia necklace, and her brown eyes were awestruck. "You're awake."

Jezebel started lapping at the blood on her arm and nodded. The blood washed over her tongue, and she almost cried. Her tongue felt like dust, and every drop of blood she licked off of the woman's arm felt like heaven. When she had cleaned the blood off of the woman's hand, she cleared her throat and nodded again. "I suppose. What's your name?"

The woman relaxed against the wall as Jezebel continued to suck on her arm. "I'm Dylis Argall. I led this coven."

Jezebel blinked, noting her use of past tense. "What happened? Where am I?" she asked, looking at the body of a young girl lying facedown on the linoleum. Dylis sighed.

"You've been under our protection at our coven, here in Wales. We thought you were safe—it's been sixteen years—we had no idea they were coming—" she winced and shook her head, a few strands of silver coming out of her bun to frame her face. Her brown eyes focused on Jez. "Maya's werewolves came in here, just a few hours ago, and slaughtered my coven. But they didn't find you. Our spells made sure of that. How much do you remember?"

Heat. Pain. Orange fire. _Blue_ fire. So much _smoke_—

Jezebel winced and shook her head. "Screaming," she whispered. "Death. Buildings burning. There was blue fire, too. So much _blue fire_."

Dylis smiled sadly. "Yes. There was a War, sixteen years ago. We were losing. But we had the Wild Powers—those destined to help us win the war; our saviors, if you will—on our side. You're one of them, Jez."

Jez started. "But—"

Dylis shook her head. "I'm dying," she chided softly. "Let me finish."

Jez was quiet. Dylis smiled and continued, "You're a Wild Power. That means you hold a very powerful weapon—blue fire. But the Daybreakers—our side—needed four Wild Powers to win the War, and we only had three. I agreed to house you until Daybreak had found the fourth one. But on your flight to London, you encountered two dragons. Dragons are very powerful shapeshifters on the enemy side. You used so much blue fire you had to use your life force to help fuel it.

"The blue fire incinerated the dragons, but not before they had killed your friends. The use of your life force caused you to pass out. I found you buried underneath the rubble of London, and I put a glamour in your place when I brought you here. You've been in a coma, recovering your life force, ever since that day. Nothing we did or could do could wake you up. But something happened that caused you to wake up today." Her brown eyes studied her face. "What was it?"

Jez shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know _anything_—"

"You'll remember," promised Dylis. "You'll remember—and when you do—find the other Wild Powers. Find Maya. Kill her, once and for all. Kill her, and you save the world."

Jez didn't know who the other Wild Powers were, or who Maya was, but she could feel the woman's strength draining away. She clutched her hand and nodded. "I will. I promise."

Dylis smiled and turned her head, revealing her neck. "Drink, Jez. Dead blood is no good to you." She closed her eyes. "At least I will die in peace."

Jez couldn't resist. She scooted forward and brushed Dylis's hair back, attaching her lips to her throat. Sharp teeth punctured skin, and blood sprayed into her mouth. Jez gulped down every mouthful greedily, closing her eyes at the sweet sensation of relief, smoothing out the feeling of sandpaper in her throat.

She didn't stop drinking until she felt Dylis's hand go limp.


	9. chapter ix

**saints & sinners  
****chapter ix**

* * *

Aradia came to fifteen minutes later. She sat up on the couch, blinked, and looked around, raising a hand and groping at the air. "Iona? John?"

Iona grabbed her hand. "We're right here. The spell knocked you out."

"Oh. So it was a success?"

"I would say so."

Aradia smiled. "Good. Take me back to the cell."

Iona and Quinn exchanged a glance. "What? You don't want to get out of here?" asked Quinn.

Aradia shook her head. "No. If I leave, Maya will connect the dots. I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me. But listen to me, both of you. Delos and James _must_ get out of Eris."

"We've got it covered," said Quinn, taking out a golden key. "While you were out, I got this from the captain's tower. It unlocks all the cells."

Iona rolled her eyes. "Why he didn't mention that when we were in the prisons, I'll never know."

"I was caught up in the moment, okay?"

"Nevertheless," interrupted Aradia, "Maya and the vampires will be back in a few hours. We must hurry."

Quinn scooped her up, and they started down the stairs to the prisons. When they reached Block 21, Iona rested her hand on the door and nodded to Quinn. "Put Aradia back in her cell, and I'll meet you in here."

Quinn nodded and continued down the stairs with Aradia. Iona opened the door and stepped inside. "Hello—whoa, it's dark in here."

"Who's that?" asked someone. Iona kept the door open to let the light flood the room. Delos and James were sitting on the floor, squinting at the brightness outside.

"My name is Iona," she explained, "I'm—"

James sat up when she said her name. "Iona Skelton. You're the oldest Old Soul in the world."

Iona forced a smile. "It's Iona Dawson now, but, yes, I am. Maya and the vampires have left for a short while. I'm here to free you two."

"We're not leaving without Maggie," said Delos.

"I know where she is. Quinn—"

James snarled, his gray eyes blazing. "_Quinn?_ You told him about us? Iona, he'll betray us all!"

"He remembers," she told him, narrowing her eyes. "He knows who Rashel is. He knows who Mary-Lynnette is. He knows who my soulmate is. Only Daybreakers know that. I'm convinced."

Quinn joined her and entered the room, producing the key from his pocket and unlocking the door. James glared at him the whole time. "I know you don't trust me," explained Quinn, "but we don't have time to fight about this. I'm going to go get Maggie—she's in that room you were in front of, right?—and you three are going to meet me in the train station."

The door swung open, and Delos and James walked out. Quinn pocketed the key and disappeared. Iona only felt a breeze as he passed her. When he was gone, she led the two out into the hall. "Follow me, please," she said, taking them up the stairs into the main palace. She led them to the throne room, then went to the wooden door in the far corner that led to the train station.

"This isn't where Gillian took us last time," said James.

Iona frowned. "Gillian is dead. And she didn't know about this."

James shut up. They had barely reached the train station platform when Quinn materialized next to them, holding Maggie bridal-style. Maggie was wide awake, her eyes wide and her hair mussed. Delos was at her side immediately as Quinn lowered her to the floor.

"Are you okay?" he whispered to her. Maggie ran a hand through her hair and pried her arm off of Quinn's neck, latching on to her soulmate instead.

"She's unsteady," said Quinn. A moment later, Maggie's knees gave out from underneath her. Delos caught her before she could hit the concrete and picked her up.

Quinn turned to Iona. "I have to show them where the exit is, but it would go faster if we were at full speed—"

Iona nodded. "I'll wait."

They started walking out of the train station, Quinn leading them. "The drugs probably won't fade for another ten minutes. I'd suggest carrying her to wherever you're going. Do you know where you're going?"

They stopped at the edge of the exit of the train station. Delos and James exchanged a look. "Oregon," decided Delos, looking at Maggie. She smiled and nodded.

"Sounds fine. Why there, though? Don't you think that's a hot spot?"

"I just think that's where we should go," said Delos. "It's hard to describe. Something happened while you were out, Maggie. Something caused the mountain to shake and the candle to go out. Something big happened. I don't know what it is, but I think we'll find it in Oregon."

Maggie nodded and stared at Quinn, a soft smile on her face. "I'm glad you remember, Quinn," she said. "You seem more like yourself. Thank you for helping us."

Quinn forced a smile, and they continued walking. "It was the least I could do," he said. Electric light gave way to darkness as they climbed the hill. When they reached the outdoors, Quinn gestured to the open prairie. "There. You're free."

James squinted at the distance. "What's that?"

Quinn saw what he was talking about immediately. It was a small, yellow shape that seemed to be running toward them, and it grew larger with every passing second. "I don't know, but I suggest you three leave now. I'll take care of it."

Delos paused to stare at Quinn. "Thank you," he said. Quinn nodded. Maggie gave him one last smile, while James refused to look at him. The next instant, they were gone.

Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for the yellow blob to take form. When it was about three hundred feet away, he could see that it was a small lioness.

The lioness stopped about ten feet away from him and changed. Fur melted into skin, and the tail shrunk until it was gone. In just a few seconds, Ariel Crowley was standing in front of him.

_So this is Galen and Keller's daughter,_ he thought. _She looks just like Keller._

She approached him and narrowed her green-gold eyes, panting. "I'm going to free Aradia," she said breathlessly, raising her fists. "I'll—I'll fight you if I have to."

Quinn shook his head and took out the gilded key. "No need for that," he said, handing it to her. It was hard to take her seriously when she was wheezing like that. "Here."

Her eyes widened and she grabbed the key. "You're—you're just going to give it to me?"

He nodded. "You can't tell anyone that I'm doing this," he warned. Ariel frowned.

"Are you a Daybreaker again? I saw you in Roz's sketchbook."

Quinn started. "Roz? She's alive?"

"Not anymore," muttered Ariel, brushing past him roughly. "You bloodsuckers killed her in the Hunt."

Quinn could faintly remember a smiling, happy-go-lucky fifteen-year-old, always with a sketchbook and a pencil in her hand. That had been over ten years ago . . . and now she was dead, thanks to Maya.

He had helped Maya kill Daybreakers for the past ten years. All of a sudden, James' hatred of him made sense. He bit the inside of his cheek, turned, and followed Ariel down the corridor.

Iona was waiting for them when they arrived. "Ariel?" she whispered. "How are you here?"

"I ran," said Ariel simply. "I'm going to get Aradia out, and you can't stop me this time."

"Go back to the servants' quarters, Iona," said Quinn, placing a hand on Ariel's shoulder. "They're probably wondering where you are. I'll take her to Aradia."

Iona nodded, took one last glance at Ariel, and went up the staircase. Quinn turned to Ariel and half-smiled. "Let's go free her."

* * *

When they reached the door of Block 22, Ariel hesitated and looked at Quinn. He nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. Ariel took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach and opened the door.

Ariel stepped inside the badly lit room and knelt in front of the iron cage that was Aradia's cell. "Mom?" she whispered, clutching the bars.

Aradia was huddled in the corner of the cell, her forehead resting on her knees. But she looked up at the sound of Ariel's voice, her face screwed up in confusion. "Ariel," she murmured. "John. What are you doing here?"

Ariel held up the key Quinn had given her. "I'm here to break you out," she said, grabbing the lock and beginning to unlock it. Aradia stood up and stumbled to the front of the cell, reaching out blindly for the bars.

"Ariel," she said. The girl didn't look up from her task. Suddenly, with a small _click_, the door sprung open and the witch was free.

Aradia didn't move. "C'mon," said Ariel, holding out her hand. "I'll get you out of here."

"Ariel," she said again, slowly lowering herself to the ground. "Close the door."

Ariel withdrew her hand, rooted to the spot. "But . . . you're free. You can walk out right now and we can go back home."

Aradia closed her eyes and turned her face to Quinn. "Close the door."

Quinn closed the door. Tears pricked Ariel's eyes. "I don't understand," she whispered. "You're free. Why don't you walk out?"

Aradia bowed her head. "Because that's what Maya wants. If I leave, she will harm others to find me. Innocent people will be hurt."

"Nyala said," began Ariel. She choked up before she could finish and buried her face in her hands, taking a deep breath. When she calmed down, she looked up. "Nyala said to help you escape. She said you were the only leader Daybreak had left."

Aradia looked at Quinn and smiled. "That isn't true."

Quinn shook his head and avoided her steady gaze. "No way. Not me."

"Ariel, come here," she said, turning her attention on her silent daughter. Ariel stifled a sob and pulled the door open, walking inside and embracing her mother. Aradia rested her cheek on the girl's head and continued, "You are my pride and joy. You might not be mine, but I love you nonetheless. I watched you grow into the extraordinary young woman you are today, and I could not be more pleased with the result. I am _desperately_ proud of you, Ariel. I want you to know that."

Ariel's eyes were watering. She shook her head, her breath hitching. "No. Don't you _dare_ act like this is goodbye. I'm getting you out of here if I have to carry you."

_I will not cry, I will not cry, I will _not—

She got to her feet and tried to pull Aradia up. But the witch was dead weight. After several seconds of straining, Ariel let go, hot tears pricking her eyes. "Why won't you come with me?" she cried. "Why are you sitting here like a coward, choosing to die? You can _leave!_ You can _live!_ We can go home. Why can't you _understand_ that?"

Aradia stared down at her hands. "Is it cowardly to face your fate? Or run from it?"

Ariel recoiled. "Run from your fate? I'm trying to _save your life!_" she screamed. "But you obviously don't _realize_ that because—"

Quinn entered the cell and clamped a hand over Ariel's mouth. His free hand grabbed her upper arm. "We might be alone, but these walls aren't soundproof," he muttered into her ear. Ariel sobbed and struggled against him, but he merely tightened his grip on her arm. "I'm serious, Ariel. I wasn't the only Night Person left in Eris—there are some werewolves who decided to get some sleep. If someone comes in here, we could be in trouble."

Aradia's brown eyes were sad. "Get her out of here, John," she said. Quinn pulled her out of the cell and locked it again. Ariel screamed against his hand and thrashed, kicking him solidly in the shin. Quinn didn't flinch.

"So this is goodbye," he said. Aradia sniffed, and he saw the tear tracks on her face for the first time.

"Yes." Her lips briefly curled up, so quickly he almost thought he imagined it. But then her fake smile was gone, and she was back to staring at her hands. "Goodbye, John. Take care of her for me."

Ariel screamed again, her green-gold eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Quinn managed a small nod to Aradia and stepped outside into the hallway.

When they were gone, Aradia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Forgive me, Ariel," she whispered. "You'll understand some day."

Quinn took Ariel to her former servants' quarters. Iona and a few other slaves were sitting in the common room when he opened the door and walked in. He let go of Ariel and she whirled around, tears streaming down her face.

"I _hate_ you!" she screamed, launching herself at him. Quinn let her pummel him with her fists, making no move to defend himself. "You're a filthy bloodsucking _monster_! Why didn't you help me get her out of there? We could be on our way back home right now! Why didn't she go?"

She pushed herself away from him, leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, sobbing. Iona went to her side, rubbing her shoulders and back. She looked up at Quinn and shook her head. "Leave, Quinn. Your presence can only hurt her. I'll take care of this."

Quinn swallowed, staring at Ariel, and nodded. He opened the door and stepped outside, feeling sick to his stomach. _I'm not a monster—am I?_

Iona, meanwhile, had helped Ariel to her room. She left her sitting on a bunk and went back to the common room, heading straight for Callie. She leaned forward and hissed, "I swear to _God_, Callie McFadden, if you report Ariel again, I'll send you to be Maya's next meal. She is a shapeshifter, yes, but she is on Daybreak's side and she would never willingly hurt anyone. Is that clear?"

Callie frowned, her blue eyes fixed on the carpeted floor. "Crystal," she muttered.

"Good." Iona straightened up and glared at the other girls in the room. "That goes for all of you."

"What happened?" asked Jamie, brushing her hair out again.

Iona sighed and shook her head. "I don't know, but whatever happened did not go very well. If you need me, I'll be in my room."

Ariel was still crying when she went back into her room, but her sobs were softer. Iona sat next to her and rubbed her back, silent. Empty words did not heal the wounds—she knew that from experience.

Ariel slowly looked up, her eyes raw and puffy. "Why didn't she leave?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Iona shrugged. "Perhaps she thought it was for the best."

The shapeshifter swallowed thickly and succumbed to tears again. "She's going to be killed. She's my _mom_, Iona. Maybe not in reality—but I lived with her for fifteen years. She's the closest family I have. I can't let her die." She sighed and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves, crawling underneath the covers. "My life is a nightmare."

Iona smiled and smoothed Ariel's hair back. "You know," she started, "the night is always darkest before the dawn. Someday it'll get better."

Ariel swallowed, her eyes watering up again. "I don't think so."

Iona stayed with her until she cried herself to sleep. Then she stared out the window at the snow-covered mountain, thinking, _God, when is the dawn going to come?_

* * *

"_What do you mean, he's gone_?"

Maya's roar of fury echoed throughout the throne room. The wine glass she had been holding shattered in her hand, and she grabbed Quinn's and threw it at the wall. Her eyes were a dark brown, almost black. When she turned back to him, her fangs were bared. "_How did he escape?_"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know, my Queen," he said. "Perhaps it was another witch working from the inside?"

"None of the witches here worked for Daybreak," she said, her chest heaving. Slowly, she straightened and narrowed her eyes. "No matter. I'll do the same thing I did ten years ago. I'll show him the consequences of his actions. Aradia Crowley is going to die—_today_."

Quinn barely managed to keep his face blank. "Should I call everyone to the amphitheater?"

Maya started pacing. "Yes. And tell Gisèle Maigny to bring her to the amphitheater."

There was a sinking feeling in his chest as Quinn bowed and walked away to fulfill his duties. When he reached the witches' dorm, Gisèle was sitting in her room, alone. "Gisèle Maigny," he said.

Gisèle slowly looked up and raised an eyebrow, her eyes cold and hate-filled. She hadn't forgotten that he had taken her best friend to her execution. "What do you want, _my lord?_"

Quinn clenched his jaw. "Aradia Crowley's execution is today. Maya orders that you are the one to bring her to the amphitheater."

Gisèle bowed her head in acknowledgement, and Quinn moved on to spread the word of the execution.

* * *

"It's too damn cold," complained Gisèle, pushing past the tarp that camouflaged the prisons in the mountainside and moving inside. She went all the way to Block 22, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Aradia Crowley sat in her cell, shivering slightly. The only light in the whole room was a single candle. There wasn't a guard in the room. Gisèle narrowed her eyes. "Where's your guard?"

She slowly lifted her head. "Gisèle Maigny."

"I said, _where's your guard_?"

"Gisèle Maigny."

"_Answer me!_"

"You were a friend of James Rasmussen."

She didn't miss the Maiden's use of past tense. Was James dead, too? "That name means nothing to me," she hissed. Aradia didn't move. Her eyes were trained directly on Gisèle's face.

_Goddess. I heard the Maiden was creepy, but _this _creepy?_

Aradia's expression softened. "What did Circle Daybreak do to you, daughter of Hellewise?" she whispered.

Gisèle fisted her hands, glowering at the Maiden. "Oh, don't pretend like you _care_," she sneered. "Because I know you don't."

Aradia's face fell. "I've seen so much pain over the years," she murmured. If the cave hadn't been so quiet, Gisèle wouldn't have heard her. "I hope yours will be eased soon, sister."

Gisèle felt her lip curl, and she sneered at the woman behind the bars. "_Sister?_ What do you know? I have this _emptiness_ inside of me that will _never_ be filled because of Circle Daybreak! You _deserve_ what's coming to you."

"Do I?" she asked, her voice never exceeding a hushed sigh. "Because I was on the side of the stray bullet? Because I fought for good? Because I thought humans deserved to live?"

Gisèle stumbled in her attack. Xavier had been human. Everyone knew that Daybreak had been fighting for the humans' right to live in the next world. She looked down at her subtly shifting belladonna tattoo on her arm and, inexplicably, her blue eyes began to water. "I don't know."

"When people get hurt, they tend to do desperate things," whispered Aradia, getting up and feeling her way along the wall, until she was directly in front of Gisèle. She reached out and grabbed her arm, perfectly accurate. Gisèle was too surprised to pull away. "Please, sister. Maya isn't the answer. She will only rub salt in your wounds. Let Circle Daybreak help you. Let _me_ help you."

Gisèle found the strength to wrench her arm out of the Maiden's iron-like grip. She stumbled and caught herself on the wooden table. "Daybreak killed him in the first place!" she snarled, refusing to look at the witch. Tears burned and blurred her vision, and she felt wet warmth trickle down her cheeks. "If it weren't for Daybreak, Xavier wouldn't be dead."

"Xavier—your soulmate? Oh, Gisèle, my sister," Aradia said. She pushed the door open and felt her way to the wooden table, wrapping her arms around the witch. Gisèle's eyes widened, but she did nothing, and they both sunk to the floor, clinging to each other. The dam broke, and she sobbed into the Maiden's shoulder, finally allowing the years-too-late tears to be shed. Aradia simply stroked her hair, silent.

Gisèle cried until her eyes were itching and she had no energy left. Then she pulled away and shook her head. "This changes nothing," she muttered. Aradia gave her a funny little half-smile. "But . . . for the record, I'm sorry you have to die."

"I've made my peace. Is my execution near?"

"It's—that's why I'm here," she whispered, too ashamed to meet her eyes. The belladonna tattoo was scorching hot on her forearm, despite the mountain's chill. Aradia did not let go of her. She didn't even seem surprised.

"I suppose we shouldn't delay the inevitable, then," she whispered, standing up. "I accepted my fate a long time ago."

Gisele wiped away her tears and rose, taking the Maiden's arm. "I'll take you to the amphitheater," she said, and led the Maiden out of the cell for the last time.

* * *

The amphitheater had once been a spot on the warmer side of the mountain outdoors, but the weather conditions had been less than ideal. Thus, Maya ordered an extension built that would both shield the inhabitants from the elements and keep everyone warm.

Thus, a large glass dome had been built into the side of the mountain, with its tunnel branching off from the staircase to the train station. It provided a crystal clear view of the snowy mountain below, as well as the landscape stretching along for miles. A small platform was at the end of the dome, with cameras surrounding it on all sides.

The only difference in the amphitheater today as opposed to other days was a small hole in the side of the glass dome, which provided for a chimney. It had been opened using magical means, and it would close at the end of the day.

Ariel walked into it with the rest of her roommates, sticking close to Iona, who led her to the very back of the amphitheater. As soon as the slaves had entered, the vampires followed. A short breeze announced Quinn's arrival. He stood next to Ariel and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. "Don't draw any attention to yourself," he muttered.

Ariel eyed the stack of wood on the stage, refusing to look at him. "Why? What's going on?"

Quinn stiffened and stared in shock at Iona, who was pretending to ignore him altogether. "You didn't tell her?" he whispered.

Iona clenched her jaw. "No."

Quinn closed his eyes and muttered, "Oh, God." Ariel furrowed her brow, on the verge of asking him what was going on again.

Just then, Maya stepped onto the platform and smiled widely at the crowd. A silence fell over them, and Maya cleared her throat before beginning to speak. "My fellow citizens," she announced, her smile widening, "I am pleased to announce that, after over a decade of searching, we have discovered one of the leaders of Circle Daybreak—Aradia Crowley."

Ariel's heart leapt in her throat, and she had to clamp her hands over her mouth to keep from throwing up. _Oh, God. Oh, God. Not now. Please, not _now_—_

"Today, we shall eliminate the threat of the Maiden of the Witches forever! Bring her out."

The crowd parted as two vampires led Aradia out onto the platform. Ariel had never seen her adopted mother so worn. Her cheekbones protruded sharply, and her skin was stretched over her face, likeshe was nothing but a thin layer of skin over bones. There were a few strands of gray in her hair, and her legs and arms seemed too skinny.

Black spots swarmed Ariel's vision as her stomach heaved. The world seemed to tilt and spin around her. Iona grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it so tightly her knuckles turned white. Ariel tried to swallow, but couldn't, because her mouth was so dry.

This was ten times worse than anything she could have watched on TV. This was real, and it was happening right in front of her.

And she couldn't do anything about it. Quinn's grip on her shoulder kept her in place.

_Please, God, please, please,_ please—

Maya held out one of her hands, and a werewolf held a lighter to a stick wrapped in cloth. The cloth immediately burst into flames, and he handed the torch to the vampire, who faced Aradia with a vicious smile on her face.

"Just like old times, hm?" she sneered.

Aradia did not look at her. "This is just the beginning, Maya."

Maya threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, darling, I _highly_ doubt that." The torchlight cast an eerie shadow over her skin and the darkness of the dome in general. Maya had turned the lights off just to showcase this. Ariel felt sick to her stomach.

Quinn grabbed Ariel and pressed her face into his shoulder as Maya lowered the torch to the wood. Ariel bit her lip so hard it split, but that couldn't keep the tears at bay. She did her best to cry as quietly as she could. The tears that didn't soak into Quinn's shirt froze on her face.

At first, there was a moment of silence, and Ariel felt a thrill of hope that a witch had cast a spell on Aradia so that she wouldn't feel pain as she burned. She tried to look up to see, but Quinn's hands kept her face effectively in his shoulder, keeping her from watching.

After the heartbeats of quiet, Aradia began to whimper, then pray to a nameless deity. The Night People, most noticeably Maya, all looked on and roared with laughter. Ariel screwed her eyes shut and tried to push Quinn away, but he kept her in place.

Then the screams began.

Ariel couldn't stand it anymore. With strength she didn't know she had, she jerked out of Quinn's vice-like grip and looked up at the bonfire before her. Aradia was tied to the post, and the flames were licking at her thighs. Her brown eyes were wide, staring at something only she could see. Her mouth was a small dark O, and clear tears trickled down her cheeks. Everything smelt like singed hair, burnt flesh and smoke.

"_Mom!"_ Ariel screamed. Her voice was drowned out by the Night People's accolades and Aradia's screams. "_MOM!_"

Quinn's arms wrapped around her waist as she lunged forward, pulling her back and keeping her from running through the crowd to get to the bonfire. She thrashed in his arms, screaming until her voice was hoarse.

Quinn managed to spin her around again and pressed her face back into his shirt. Ariel pushed against his chest, trying to get free, before her strength failed her and she simply clung to him, sobbing with great, gasping breaths. The Night People roared their approval all the while.

When Aradia's scream wavered, then cut off abruptly, Ariel knew that her mother was gone. In the short silence that followed, Maya cried, "_Aradia Crowley is dead!_"

The Night People cheered so loudly it hurt Ariel's ears. Some were yelling Maya's name, others were chanting _the Maiden is dead_, and the rest were simply shouting their approval at the top of their voices. It only made Ariel cry harder.

When Quinn released her, she saw gray snowflakes swirling in the sky, illuminated by the flickering firelight.

It took only a moment before she realized the snowflakes were ashes.


	10. chapter x: blue lightning

**saints & sinners  
****chapter x:  
**_(Blue Lightning)_

* * *

_July 5, 2016. While the whole world is watching the Maiden burn, a woman who has slept for sixteen years is finally on the move—and out for blood._

* * *

_So this is London_. Jez was walking down an empty street of a ruined ghost town, looking around and noting the damage the dragons had done, so many years ago.

What was once the Thames River was a canyon with only a small stream of water remaining. The Lambreth Bridge only had two standing columns—the rest had given out. A part of Parliament had collapsed. Big Ben's glass ceiling had several holes in it. Clouds darkened the sky, with only small patches of gray light peeking through.

Jez shoved her hands in her pockets and walked past flipped cars and debris. London's ghetto was more than a mile away.

She had recovered bits and pieces of her memory as time went on—she now knew who the other two Wild Powers were, who the people in her last memory of London were, and what Circle Daybreak was.

Or had been. Jez kicked a piece of trash into the canyon, her lips pressed into a thin line. London had been teeming with people sixteen years ago. Now it was a dark, desolate, lonely place.

Jez swallowed at the memory of Rashel teaching her jujitsu, and Thea showing her which plants were edible and which weren't. She had no idea what had happened to Daybreak in the past sixteen years.

And the worst part was that she didn't know whether or not Morgead was alive. Every time she tried to tug on the silver cord, all she got was fog. It didn't confirm his death, but it didn't reassure her that he was alive, either.

Jez closed her eyes and quickened her pace. The London ghetto was probably full of Night People—and if that was the case, she wanted to kill as many as she could. The fewer soldiers Maya had, the better.

It was a few more minutes before she reached the border. It was higher than she was and topped with barbed wire, but she had no doubt she could scale it in the darkness. She whirled the fighting stick she'd found in her room's closet at the coven, then took a running start. Ten feet away from the wall, she planted the end of the stick into the ground and jumped, propelling herself up into the air. The barbed wire brushed her feet as she catapulted over the edge of the wall and landed on her feet.

_Thank God I still have my equilibrium_, she thought, waited for the pain in her ankles to ebb before standing up. She tossed the stick to the wall and took note of her surroundings before setting off.

London's ghetto was just as depressing as the ruins of London. It was night time, so the only light was the electric lights lining the streets. Dead trees were scattered throughout the place. The apartment buildings were a dirty beige color and were so high Jez had to strain to see the top.

Various pieces of trash were piled up in the gutters, and she could see rats scuttling between the open black bags. A fire burned in a trashcan as she passed. Vulgar graffiti aimed at Night People were scrawled across walls.

It looked like the slums of San Francisco, only worse. She could see a group of people up ahead—some crowded around a burning trashcan, some sitting on the stairway in front of a building's door, and some facing the other two groups.

As she got closer, she could hear the third group of people talking. "Filthy vermin," "pigs," and "should be meat," were just a few of the words she heard. She saw a man dragging a crying human girl toward him, a sick sneer on his face.

Jez looked at the girl—and the memory of Iona Skelton hit her so strongly she actually faltered. She remembered seeing Thistle kicking sparks at Iona, and how there was a fire on the rooftop of the San Francisco building.

The girl's terrified expression matched Iona's perfectly.

Jez took out the pocketknife she'd found in Dylis's kitchen, rolled up her sleeves, and pressed the blade to her wrist. "Let her go!" she shouted. Her voice echoed across the emptiness of the ghetto. Everyone turned to look at her.

Jez calmly walked forward, her hold on her knife never wavering. Its blade was made of silver—sharp enough to harm both her and, with a well-aimed throw, the werewolf. "Let her go," she repeated, "or you die."

The werewolf sneered. "Stay out of this, vermin, or I might have fun with you next."

His Night friends snickered. His grip on the girl's arm tightened, and the child whimpered in pain. Jez saw red as she pressed the tip of the knife's blade into her skin. Blood welled up in the wound and tingles traveled up her spine.

Blue fire burst from the tiny cut on her wrist. It felt like a balloon had blown up to twice its size inside of her, and now it had just popped. The fire made everything seem too bright, and Jez closed her eyes.

When she opened them, the blue fire was gone—and so were the Night People.

The silence was broken by the little girl. She ran up to Jez and wrapped her arms around her waist in a hug. "Thank you," she whispered, beaming up at her. Jez touched her hair and smiled.

The girl had gray eyes and frizzy orange hair. She looked nothing like Iona. But she was worth it, nonetheless. "You're welcome," she said. The girl let go of her and ran back to a woman, presumably her mother.

A man stood up and pointed at her. "You're Jezebel Redfern," he said, narrowing his eyes. The crowd behind him broke out in murmurs.

Jez's smile disappeared. "Don't call me Jezebel. I'm going to help you. If you want my help, then none of you breathe a _word _of what you just saw. Understood?"

They all nodded. Jez shut her pocket knife and turned around, whistling under her breath as she walked away.

She knew she was being followed after she had been walking through the ghetto for quite a while. But she knew from experience and training how to handle situations like these. She turned another corner and faced a dead alleyway.

Silently, she moved to the side and hid in the shadows, bringing up a hood to cover her hair. Her shadow appeared just a few minutes later. When he had walked past her, Jez stepped out and flipped open her pocketknife.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you," she threatened.

The man stopped, turned around, and pulled down his hood. Then he stepped into orange lamplight, revealing a young man with blonde hair and shockingly purple eyes, like the color of a hydrangea. He had the eyes of a Harman. A witch. They were on Daybreak's side, weren't they?

Jez straightened and closed her pocketknife. The man smiled and held up his hands in a mock surrender. "Sorry. I just wanted to talk to you alone. I want to help you."

Jez narrowed her eyes. "You'll only slow me down," she said.

"No." The man took a pouch out of his sweatshirt pocket and withdrew something from it. It was a pebble with a single line down its center. "I'm a runemaster."

"A what?"

"These things," he held up the pebble, "are called runes. They have certain powers associated with their symbols. This one, for example, is called _is_, and it means ice. Watch." He threw it on the ground, and the pebble exploded in green light. The light faded quickly, however, and ice began to form in the cracks in the pavement. Soon it was a thin sheet covering the street. "I also know this ghetto like the back of my hand," continued the man. "I'm your best chance of not getting caught—which you will, if you continue killing Maya's blokes like that. I'm also a healer, and I can summon amber fire."

Jez raised an eyebrow and put the pocketknife away. From what she could remember, amber fire was the third most powerful witchlight that witches could summon: there was emerald, amethyst, amber, diamond and sapphire—which were the fancy names for green, purple, orange, white and blue fire.

"What's your name?" she asked. The man grinned and pocketed his pouch of runes.

"I'm Tristan Dawson." His smile turned grim. "And I have a score to settle with Maya."

Jez decided that she couldn't trust him. Not yet. But if he was genuine—well, she wasn't going to turn down the help of a witch. "Well, Tristan Dawson, you're not alone. Welcome to the team."

* * *

_July 10, 2016. Maya has called in an ally of hers to manage things at Eris, because she has some business in Washington, D.C. Her ally is none other than Meraux, the infamous Dragonking. But Meraux isn't the only new arrival in Eris._

* * *

Iona and Quinn waited at the train station in silence. Ariel had been sentenced to the kitchens, as vampires there were as common as mosquitoes in the middle of winter. It also meant she was put under the watchful eye of Erica, who made sure Ariel was never alone—Iona feared that if Ariel was left to her own devices, she would hunt Maya down and try to kill her. It had been a week since Aradia's death, and the girl hadn't shaken off her depressed funk.

Iona couldn't blame her. Gloominess seemed to have settled over everyone in Eris—everyone, of course, except for Maya and her most fanatical supporters that lived in Eris.

Ariel had nightmares that woke her up screaming and in tears. Quinn often locked himself in his room for the whole day, with only his meals as his breaks. Iona sometimes saw Gisèle Maigny shaking her head, her eyes squeezed shut, for apparently no reason. The slaves shuffled their feet as they walked and always kept their eyes on the floor.

It was like Aradia was the final thread that held everyone to hope. When she died, that thread had snapped.

And now she and Quinn were waiting at the bottom of the mountain, expecting only someone that Maya described as a "friend." Iona didn't like it one bit, really. Maya's friends were no friends of hers.

They waited for a few more minutes before she could hear the roar of a train. A split second later, the subsonic train sped by her before slowing down. It came to a complete stop at about the hundredth car. The doors slid open, and a man with blond hair and gray eyes stepped out.

A chill went down Iona's back. Iona as her current self did not recognize the man, but Risa Hearth-Woman did. He was Meraux, the Dragonking. Risa had helped Hecate Witch-Queen put them to sleep, and Risa was the one who took his beloved daughter Valencia under her wing.

She recognized him. But the question was—would _he_ recognize _her_, even though Iona looked nothing like Risa had?

Meraux's eyes slid over her and settled on Quinn, and his lips curled up into something that was not quite a smile. Iona silently breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, plastering a smile on her face. Quinn stood up as well and offered his hand. "Welcome, King Meraux," he greeted. "My name is Quinn. I am Maya's second-in-command here at Eris. She's been looking forward to your visit."

Meraux's eyes trailed over to her and stayed on her face. "Who's this?" he murmured in a low, cold voice. Iona swallowed, her heart racing. _Please don't recognize me. Please don't recognize me._

Quinn glanced at her briefly, then turned back to Meraux. Iona curtseyed. "That is the Lady Herald. She's in charge of the slaves. Talk to her about domestic duties, such as when you would like your meal to be sent up or when you would like your room cleaned. Follow me, please. Maya will receive you in her throne room."

Meraux's eyes narrowed slightly, but he finally looked away from Iona to follow Quinn, who was already heading up the stairs.

Maya was standing in front of the fire when they arrived. She wore a black and teal ensemble that clung to her as faithfully as a second skin, as well as smoky-eye makeup that highlighted her kaleidoscope eyes. Iona had never seen her look so . . . provocative.

She looked at Meraux, saw his appreciative smile, and suddenly realized what this was all about. Maya and Meraux were sleeping with each other. And if they weren't, they were going to soon. That was how Maya did things—she got deep into people's hearts and played with them until they were so desperate for her approval that they did whatever she wanted.

Oh, boy, Belinda would be furious. But the only other dragons here were Uther and Samael, the twin princes of the Dragoncrown, because they had come for the Salt Lake Hunt. And Iona highly doubted that Maya would invite the Dragonqueen to Eris anytime soon.

"Meraux," purred Maya, coming over to them. "How wonderful of you come here."

Meraux took one of her hands and kissed her knuckles. "It was an offer I couldn't refuse," he said, making Maya chuckle.

"I see," she said with a smirk. "Well, you already know everything required of you. You are to watch over Eris's affairs while I am gone, and do so responsibly. When I come back, you shall be a guest. For now, you are the leader. The Lady Herald will show you to your room. I have a flight to catch."

Maya walked into the tall office building and smiled at the witch secretary sitting at the desk. The secretary looked up and gasped, then stood up, knocking several things over. "I'm so sorry," she gushed, hurrying to tidy her desk up.

"It's perfectly fine," Maya reassured her, thinking, _What a fool_.

After the witch had restored order to her desk, she pressed her earpiece and said, "The Queen is here to see you, sir." After a moment, she let go of her earpiece and said, "He can see you now, my Queen."

Maya opened the door next to the desk and stepped inside. "Hello, Morgead," she said. The lamia vampire turned around and sat on the desk, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the belladonna tattoo on his left arm.

"My Queen," he greeted, tilting his head. "What brings you to Washington?"

Maya sat down in one of the desk chairs and shook her head, withdrawing a couple of fuzzy photos from her purse and setting them on Morgead's desk. The vampire picked them up and studied them with narrowed green eyes. "I've gotten an anonymous report from London. Apparently someone is killing my men in the ghetto. You're the best bounty hunter in the world. You must find this person, kill them, and then bring me the body."

The belladonna tattoo on his arm froze and turned a shade of purple-black. Morgead's eyes darkened as the order was processed, and he set the photo down on the desk and stood up. "As the Queen lives, I obey."

Maya smiled as he put on his coat, put the picture in a pocket, and left the office. He had her tattoo. He was hers. And he would have no choice but to kill Jezebel Redfern, once and for all.

* * *

Washington, D.C., was a shadow of its former glory. Iliana adjusted her brown beanie cap as she stood on the grass of the Mall, staring at the ruins where the Capitol building had once been.

Childhood memories of Washington were her only remembrance of her country's capitol. It was really quite sad, seeing such a great city reduced to nothing but rubble and ashes.

Nissa nudged her with her elbow and handed her the suitcase. "Come on, Catherine," she said. "We need to get set up."

Iliana tucked more blonde strands underneath her beanie and followed after her two companions. The _Spotted Owl_ was an apartment complex riddled with graffiti, and it had a bad case of looking like it would topple at any second. But it was the only one with space for three that they had managed to secure back in Raleigh. They went in to the lobby, got their key, and headed to the stairwell to climb ten flights of stairs.

When they finally reached their floor, Winfrith waved her key. "Almost there, guys!" she said with a wide smile on her face. Iliana grinned at her appreciatively. That was Winnie—always looking on the bright side of things.

They walked down their hall and came to a stop at room 211. As Winfrith was trying to open the door with their key, Iliana heard a door down the hall shut with a click. She looked and saw a man about their age walking down the hall.

When he looked up and met her gaze, Iliana's breath caught.

It was Eric Ross. He was still _alive_?

Eric's eyes met hers, then he looked at Winfrith, who was still trying to get the door to accept their cardkey. "Having trouble there?" he asked cheerfully. "Don't worry, I'm a veteran with trying to open these doors."

Winfrith straightened and froze. Nissa pinched the back of her arm, out of Eric's vision, and she handed him the key. "Yeah," she whispered, forcing a laugh. "Sorry, we're new here."

"No biggie." Eric took the card and, with an expert jangle, got the red arrow on the doorknob to turn green by jamming the card into the slot then quickly taking it out. "It's all about timing. This place's technology is really slow, so you have to be harsh with it." He twisted the doorknob and pushed it open for them.

"Thank you," said Nissa. Eric smiled, but it didn't reach his bright green eyes. He gave the key back to Winnie, and continued on his way. When the door to the stairwell slammed shut, Winnie's smile faded, and she blinked rapidly.

"He doesn't recognize us," whispered Iliana.

Nissa picked up her bags and sighed. "Perhaps that's for the best," she murmured, stepping inside. Winnie swallowed and followed, but Iliana stayed behind, her gaze lingering on the door that Eric had disappeared behind.

_We were friends, once._

Nissa called her name, and Iliana bit her lip, risking one last look at the stairwell door before going inside her apartment.

* * *

He hadn't seen sunshine in years. So it was no surprise that he was almost blind when they dragged him to the chamber room of the Harem. The floor was a dark wood, and the wall was a bright red, with white columns interspersing between them. A gold-and-white chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there was a lively fire in the middle of the room. Overseer Donahue sat on a cushioned black-and-red seat, two women on each side of him. When Kierlan was able to see again, he saw that one of the women was Sarah.

She was wearing a white bikini top and a skirt that only covered her front and back. Her hair was piled on top of her hair and studded with an assortment of jewels, and her earrings were made of diamonds. Everything she wore highlighted her body and left little to the imagination. The other woman wore the exact same thing. Kierlan had no doubt that all of the women in the Harem wore it as well.

It infuriated Kierlan. He wanted to kill the bastard with his bare hands. But, as he was bearing silver chains and accompanied by three vampire guards, he had no hope of doing that.

Donahue smiled down at Kierlan, his cold blue eyes reflecting the light. "Kierlan Drache," he announced, standing up. "Do you know why you're here?"

Kierlan stared at Sarah with narrowed eyes. "No," he muttered, looking up at the smirking vampire, "but I have the feeling I'm going to find out."

"Mal Harman needs to be found," he hissed. "And we all know that you know where he is. You were his closest friend, after all."

_Not true_, thought Kierlan, his gaze flickering to Sarah once more. Donahue grabbed Kierlan's face and forced him to look at him. "Tell me where he is," he muttered. "Tell me where he is, or Sarah Strange will be . . . punished." A slow smile spread over the vampire's face. Kierlan knew exactly what kind of punishment he had in mind.

A snarl ripped itself from Kierlan's throat. He almost lunged at Donahue, but his guards managed to keep him back. It was one of the few times he regretted not choosing an animal form. A twelve-ton African elephant would have been rather hard to stop.

When Kierlan remained silent, Donahue snapped his fingers. Sarah slowly got up from her cushioned chaise lounge and walked over to them, her blue eyes wide and fearful. When she got close enough, Donahue's hand shot out and wrapped around her neck, lifting her off the floor.

Donahue began to choke her, his blue eyes on Kierlan's face all the while. Sarah gasped once, and that was enough for Kierlan. "Stop," he muttered, closing his eyes. Donahue dropped Sarah, who collapsed on the floor, coughing. "He—he's out West," he lied, opening his eyes and staring at his soulmate. Sarah looked up at him, his eyes wide.

"I told you not to tell them," she whispered.

Kierlan almost wanted to smile. Smart girl. "I won't let him hurt you for Mal's sake," he replied. Sarah's eyes fluttered shut, and she looked at the floor, trembling.

Donahue was sold. "Where is he?"

"I don't know exactly," Kierlan said, shaking his head. "He's always moving. But I have a way of finding him."

"How?"

"We established a telepathic communication before we separated," he lied. "I can follow its signals and it will lead me to him."

Donahue's lips curved up into a smirk. "Wonderful. That should make finding him easier. I want you to look for Mal Harman, find him, and bring him to me. You will have one guard with you and a tracking device. It will be pointless to kill your guard and run away, because we will still know where you are. If you cut out your tracking device, we will kill your beloved soulmate."

He looked at Sarah and offered her his hand. She ignored it and stood up on her own, returning to the chaise lounge. Pride shot through Kierlan, but it was quickly replaced with fear when he saw how Donahue's gaze hardened. "You will leave now," he announced, his hand dropping back to his side. "Radhu, come here."

A vampire with silvery blue eyes and red hair came forward. He didn't look a day over eighteen—but Kierlan recognized the name. Radhu was a powerful made vampire and an avid supporter of Maya. Kierlan would have a hard time killing him unawares. He frowned slightly at the thought as the regal redhead bowed his head. "You're going to chaperone Kierlan on his quest to find the Wild Power," he said. "I want you to be back before the year ends."

Radhu's blue eyes shone as he smirked at Kierlan. "We will be."

Donahue turned to Kierlan. "If you step one toe out of line—the consequences will be taken out on Sarah."

Kierlan's gaze went to Sarah, who was now sitting on the chaise like a queen, her head held high. Donahue snapped his fingers again, and a person came with a syringe. Donahue took the syringe and grabbed Kierlan's wrist, holding it up and plunging the syringe into a vein in his arm. Kierlan hissed at the pain and grimaced when the vampire overseer took the needle out. No blood welled up, unfortunately, and Donahue smiled. "That's your chip. We'll be tracking your every move. I'll give you ten minutes to say goodbye."

Kierlan was led into a gray room containing only one furnishing—a hard steel chair. His chains were replaced by pure silver handcuffs, and then he was left alone in the room. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Sarah stepped through. Kierlan stood up and met her halfway, cupping her face.

"I'll kill him," he snarled, trembling with rage. He lowered his forehead to hers and stared at her. "I swear to you, I'll kill him."

Sarah's eyes watered as she shook her head. "Killing him won't stop anything. There's been too much death lately. It needs to stop."

"Sarah, I can smell him all over you. When I find Mal, I'll come back for you," he promised. Sarah closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead and sighed. Kierlan pulled away and looked down at her with narrowed eyes. "You know where he is, don't you?"

Sarah looked away. "So you know I'm going on a goose chase, then, huh?" he continued.

"Yes," she whispered, looking down. Then she looked up and cupped his face. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, and the air around them began to hum. "Kierlan, I don't want you to come back for me. I want you to get rid of Radhu and find the other Wild Powers. They're all alive—don't look at me like that! I can feel it, okay? They're alive, and you need to join them. When you do that, Circle Daybreak can be reborn."

"Circle Daybreak is dead," he said. "It has been since Jez died in London."

"Jez isn't dead," she said, pressing a fist to her heart. "I just—I feel that she's alive, somehow. I don't know why. Call it hope, or intuition, or whatever you want . . . ."

Kierlan closed his eyes as she trailed off. "All right," he finally agreed. "I won't look for Mal. I'll go west."

Sarah smiled, her blue eyes shining. "Why west?"

Kierlan grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles. "Call it intuition," he said. "Take care of yourself, Sarah. Don't piss Donahue off."

Sarah ran a hand through his dark hair, her grin widening. Suddenly, the doors burst open, and Radhu and another vampire entered the room. "Time to go," said Radhu. The vampire pulled Sarah out of the room. Kierlan clenched his hands into fists and stared at the vampire with hate-filled, green-gold eyes.

"Where to, then?" asked Radhu, handing him a backpack. He checked inside and saw that there were water bottles, granola bars, a coil of rope, two silver knives, and band-aids. That was it. No tent, no radio, no map. _We really have the camping type here_, thought Kierlan. "I have everything else we need," added Radhu, smirking. "I saw what Donahue put in your backpack and decided to add everything else to mine."

Kierlan raised an eyebrow and nodded, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. "We go west," he said.

* * *

The kitchen was nauseatingly stuffy. Ariel was one of the five people who worked to prepare three meals that would feed fifty people every day. She, at Iona's orders, was always cooking, because the cooks didn't leave the kitchens. Maya almost never went into the kitchens, and thus, she wouldn't see Ariel. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that.

Personally, Ariel hated it. There was a grumpy old woman who thought she was a pest and a kook named Cassandra who was always muttering to herself. Her only consolation was that it was much warmer in the kitchens than in any other place in Eris and that she was able to have Valencia's necklace with her at all times.

She was kneading bread dough that would be a part of the witches' meal when the kitchen suddenly fell silent. The only sound was the breathing and the crackle of the ovens. Ariel looked up from her task and saw Timothy standing in one of the two doorways, staring directly at her.

Her heart began to race. Why was he here? How did he know she was here?

"Can I talk to you?" he asked. Erica—she was the old lady herb specialist—glared at Ariel with squinty brown eyes and moved toward her, pushing her out of the way and continuing to knead the dough. It was a silent dismissal. Ariel nodded and wiped her hands on her already stained apron. Timothy took her arm and pushed past the camouflaged curtain that led to the tunnels deep into the mountain. They went down the stairs until Timothy paused, confident that they wouldn't be overheard.

Then he turned around and glared at her with such ferocity Ariel actually took a step back. "Why are you here?" he whispered. Ariel narrowed her eyes.

"How did you know I was here, _my lord?_"

Timothy frowned at the mocking title. "I asked first."

Ariel sighed and looked away, crossing her arms. She couldn't even summon enough energy to be annoyed at him. "I wanted to free Aradia."

"You have to leave Eris," Tim said. He took a step toward her, his gaze softening. "Please. If Maya finds you, she'll kill you."

"That's why I'm working in the kitchens—so Maya _won't_ find me," she retorted. Then she looked down at her flour-covered hands and frowned. "Besides. I can't leave. I—I have nowhere to go."

Timothy's brow furrowed. "Do you want to stay here?" he asked.

Ariel looked up and found him right in front of her. He had backed her up against the tunnel's wall, and their noses were almost touching. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she suddenly couldn't swallow.

"I don't know what I want anymore," she whispered. Timothy, looking half-dazed, brought his hand up to touch her face. Ariel closed her eyes and wet her lips, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. _Stupid asthma_.

Before he actually touched her, however, someone cleared their throat. Ariel opened her eyes and watched Timothy clench his hand and step away. They both looked down the tunnel to see Tora staring at them, a hand on her hip. Her golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked coolly.

"Actually—" began Timothy, his eyes changing to a stormy gray.

Ariel pushed him away from her, ignoring the tingling sensation in her hands. "No. What is it?"

"I was actually hoping I could work with you today. You know, work on some . . . things. But if you're busy..."

"What things?" asked Timothy, frowning.

Ariel glared at him. "Nothing."

"I would like to talk to Ariel alone, Timothy," said Tora. The ice in her tone was unmistakable. He glanced at Ariel and went up the stairs, back to the kitchens. Tora watched him go with molten golden eyes. When he was gone, her gaze went to Ariel. "Be careful, Ariel. You're just a plaything to him."

Ariel felt her face heat. She took a deep breath and said, "Why are you here?"

Tora smiled. "It's a surprise. Follow me."

Tora promptly turned around and went down the stairs. Ariel looked over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchens, then shook her head and followed the tiger shapeshifter. Tora led her through the extensive tunnels of the city, until they ended up in a room that seemed to be close to the peak.

A blue mat covered the floor, and there were various weight-lifting equipment and punching bags. But in the middle of the workout gear was a large, roped-off space. Tora gestured to it as Ariel entered the room, leaving the tiger shapeshifter in front of the door. "This is the guards' training area. It'll be free for two hours."

Ariel deflated. She should have seen it before she left. It would've saved a lot of time. "You want to fight?"

"Yes. I thought you might want to get some practice with fighting in your lioness form."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Ariel turned and faced her. "Can I go back to the kitchens?"

Tora's smile faded and her eyebrows rose. "You don't want to train?"

Ariel pursed her lips and turned around, walking toward the windows that overlooked King's Peak. Tora followed her. "No. What's the point?"

"The point? The point is for you to get comfortable with your lioness form, so that you'll know how to fight well as both human and animal."

"Tora, I don't care anymore. Maya's won."

Tora froze, her eyes changing from amber to cold gold. "How can you say that?" she asked. "Your parents wanted you to grow up in a world free from Maya's cruelty, and you are throwing their sacrifice away—"

"Don't you say anything about my parents!" Ariel cried, whirling around. "You don't know anything about me—"

"And Aradia? How do you think _she_ would feel about you giving up?"

"_Shut up!_" she screamed, shaking too hard to move. Anger swept through her and blinding pain pulsed in her head. She felt herself take the necklace out of her pocket and slip it over her head, glaring at Tora.

Tora wasn't fazed. _That's it, Ariel_, she thought. _Take out your anger on me._

"How do you think she felt while you were hiding in Salt Lake—"

"_I wasn't hiding_!" A snarl ripped itself out of her throat, and she convulsed, unable to control herself any longer. A shiver went through her body and her clothes ripped as she changed. A lioness looked up from where Ariel had stood and bared her canines.

Tora dropped to all fours and changed into a Bengal tiger as Ariel roared and lunged at her, claws extended. She darted to the side, leaving Ariel skidding to a halt on the mat. Ariel spun around again, growling.

Tora began to circle her, her lips curling to reveal four-inch-long canines. Ariel bit back an instinctual snarl and sat down, watching her. _Careful_, whispered Valencia in her head. _Tigers are stronger than lions. But lions are faster, and one of their blows can break a zebra's back._

_I can take her. Did you hear what she said?_

_Yes. She was goading you. Shapeshifters change when they cannot control the more intense of their emotions. That's why toddlers are so volatile. Pay attention!_

Tora darted to the side and swiped, her claws extended. Ariel batted her paw away and lunged for Tora's throat. Her teeth punctured the skin just above Tora's collarbone, and the tiger howled in pain.

Then she jumped forward, knocking Ariel off-balance. She released her hold on Tora as she twisted around, careful not to land on her back. Tora rolled to the side and backed up, her wound already healing.

Ariel spat out Tora's blood and faced her, her tail swishing behind her. The angry haze that had clouded her brain, but she was determined to make Tora pay. Releasing a livid yowl, she gathered her muscles and jumped at the tiger.

Tora chuffed and twisted to the floor, her back on the mat. When Ariel landed on her, Tora's legs caught Ariel in the stomach and pushed, propelling her backwards. Ariel landed on her side, panting. Tora got to her feet and padded toward the motionless lioness.

Valencia saw what Ariel was thinking and smirked. _Clever. You're using Tora's weaknesses to your advantage. That's a good trait every fighter should have._

Ariel held her breath and waited for Tora to approach her. When Tora's nose bumped into her shoulderblade, making sure she was okay, Ariel twisted and slashed. Her claws caught Tora's face and carved out a chunk of flesh, sending it flying.

Tora screamed, backing away from her, tossing her head, sending splatters of blood everywhere. The tiger's panic reminded her of Roz when the vampire was drinking her blood, and Ariel got to her feet and backed away.

_Don't be sorry,_ whispered Valencia. _You should never be sorry when facing an adversary._

_But Tora's not an adversary. She helped me try to break out Aradia and she helped me turn human when I first changed._ Ariel's gut twisted and she whimpered, backing into a punching bag and knocking it over. Tora was still bleeding all over the mat. _What did I just do?_

Someone started clapping from the back of the room, where the doors were. "That was impressive," the person said. Both shapeshifters spun around to see who had seen their fight.

A woman was standing in front of the door, watching them. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and cinnamon-colored brown eyes, and she was dressed entirely in gray. Ariel had never seen her around before, and it was clear that Tora hadn't either.

Tora growled, bristling. In the blink of an eye, she had turned human and was standing in front of Ariel, her arms crossed. "This room is open to Eris's guards only," she said, her voice like ice. Her cheek was a clump of raw pink flesh as it healed, still seeping blood. Ariel closed her eyes at the sight, her stomach roiling.

The woman didn't so much as flinch. "I'm sorry," she said, smiling slightly.

She turned to go, but Tora cut her off by saying, "Who are you?"

The woman looked over her shoulder to stare at them, her brown eyes cold. "No one needs to know that except for Maya," she said, narrowing her eyes. With that, she turned and disappeared into the tunnels. When the door slammed shut behind her, Ariel started pacing back and forth, concentrating on sending her thoughts to the shapeshifter.

_Tora, I'm sorry_—

Tora shook her head. "Don't. I'm healing. I've been through worse."

Guilt churned inside her, leaving her queasy. She couldn't get the image of Roz coughing up blood out of her head. _Okay, but . . . nevermind. Do you know who that lady was?_

Tora stood up and pointed to the blue-and-white duffel bag sitting next to the doorway. "That has shapeshifter clothes. Take that into the locker room and change. As for our guest—she looks like someone I know. Scarily so, actually."

Ariel padded over to the duffel bag, picking up the strap with her teeth and dragging it to the door. _Who?_

"This won't make any sense, but . . ." Tora trailed off and sighed. "Her name was Thea Harman. But the problem with that is—Thea Harman was killed in London sixteen years ago."

* * *

_Review, por favor?_


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